Knights or Justice?
by astrocitizen
Summary: Once more, the shadow of Britannia has fallen upon an unsuspecting land, and a city now lies in ruin. Again, cries of retribution call out for the fall of the Empire. But whose shall be answered? Those of Lelouch the Black Prince and his vengeful knights? Or those of a strange band of squires and their mentors, the Justice League?
1. Prologue

**Knights or Justice?**

**Prologue: "The Worth of a Word"**

**by AstroCitizen**

"_Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty-loving people everywhere march with you."_

–Dwight D. Eisenhower

* * *

**A suburb of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania **

**United States of America**

**A quiet Sunday morning, one week before Operation Wild Hunt**

Mother said, "Every little thing matters."

Tham always wondered if, as a second-generation Korean-American, that was one of the old ways she wanted him to continue, or simply a bit of good advice. Either way, these words to live by zipped through his mind when he'd turned around and the customer who'd called to him gave him a rather curious look on sight.

_Is it _that_ obvious?_ he wondered, trying hard not to look down. He was certain if he followed her gaze, he'd see where despite his diligent scrubbing there was still a trace stain on his apron from splattering his breakfast frappe on himself that morning.

Worn over Tham's functional button-up shirt was an official apron of the Word's Worth book emporium chain. Like all the rest it was an inventively-designed number made of a maroon-dyed cloth stitched in a pattern meant to evoke old leather book covers. This included a set of interlocking stripes along the side which formed the "spine" where employees' names were clearly embroidered along with the store logo in a kind of golden-yellow thread. _As opposed to plain old "Hi, My Name is…" tags like everybody else does_, Tham thought, for once wishing for the latter. _A nametag I could have just moved and covered the stain up a bit more. _

"Excuse me," the young woman repeated herself, now composed again. "I need a map of the city, and would like something that gives me a bit of everything: Cuisine, the sights, hospitals, government, and so on."

Saying so, she gestured to the wall behind Tham, its shelves teeming with books about Philadelphia, mainly historical but also with guidebooks for tourists and biographies of its more famous sons and daughters. It shared display space with a multitude of folded maps of varying purposes and name brands. Having restocked it more than once, he picked out a handful that he considered a smart visitor's best choices and, explaining the pros and cons of each, handed them to her one at a time.

As she flipped through them, glancing at the contents of each in turn, Tham took in the young lady. She was in her mid-twenties at most with a kewpie doll-like face, accentuated by huge blue eyes. Her blond hair was worn waist-length in the back with a bowl-like set of bangs that practically came down over her eyebrows. Her clothes – a green-yellow blouse, white slacks, shoes with low heels – were elegant but not flashy, nor did they have a particular brand name visible. The same went for the tiny purse hanging by her hip. A looker, but done up in a nondescript way that she would not be terribly memorable to anyone who saw her.

Making her selection, the young lady returned the other maps to Tham before asking what the store had in the way of books on warfare. As he led her over to the relevant section, he made a tiny bit of small talk as a preamble to the formality currently demanded by corporate.

"Are you from out of town, ma'am?" This was met with a tiny wry chuckle.

"Yes, very much so," she responded pleasantly. "I want to learn a bit of everything before I leave," she added, holding up her maps in way of explanation.

Tham decided to forego asking if she was in town for business or pleasure; it was an intrusive question and frankly he always thought it sounded rather tawdry. Thinking he'd left the small talk hanging, he decided to tie it up by saying, "In that case, welcome to the Birthplace of America… and cheesesteaks."

Total silence came from behind him. _Oh, shit,_ he thought, coming up short. He'd been warned about using this by his friends, either because it sounded lame or how easily it could provoke a moronic argument over Geno's and Pat's. Nothing had dissuaded him until just now, however, as he imagined himself being reamed out for acting the fool around customers.

Turning around, he then realized she probably hadn't even heard him. He'd taken a shortcut through the manga section, which she'd stopped in the middle of, blinking in a slightly amazed manner. She plucked one paperback off the shelves and allowed the pages to zip past her eyes as she trailed her thumb against the ends of the pages. Looking back up at him, she said with a hint of curiosity, "They're in… English."

"Yes, ma'am. They all are," he said, trying to sound professional again. "The companies that license to print them here translate them. Also, they usually flip them over so the pages don't read right to left." After a beat, he added that the store did have a foreign language section, but they were mostly famous old works from Europe.

She simply nodded in understanding, an unreadable expression on her face as she plopped the book, a volume of _Giant Mars Warrior Jade_, back on the shelf before she started walking after him again.

As they continued on, she suddenly asked him if he'd said something to her beforehand. Guardedly, he responded that he had just welcomed her to Philadelphia while using one of its nicknames, "The Birthplace of America."

"Uh-huh," was all that she said at that.

Once in the military section, he showed where the books were divided into historical reference – the American Revolution being prominent, of course – and technical material. While she gave one of the more well-displayed books of the former an appraising look, the young lady was more interested in the latter, quickly crouching on the floor as she built a small pile of books on either side of her. One column of books was of the technology, paraphernalia, and vehicles used – firearms, comm. systems, tanks, and fighter jets – while the other was on the various arms of the military, their charters, tactics, and their training methods.

_Or a very vague warning of what awaits you in boot camp, depending on how you look at it_, Tham thought warily as he looked back at the afore-mentioned historical book, its dust jacket adorned with the ubiquitous portrait of the Founding Fathers. _Sorry, George. I love this country, they took my parents in when most every other place would have sent them to a ghetto or back home. But if they bring back the draft – _his mind drifted momentarily to a day when absent parents and an unblocked cable channel had shown him _Full Metal Jacket_ in all its blood and curse-word encrusted glory at the tender age of eight_ – I'm gonna take an ice-pick to one of my eardrums and become an the air raid warden! _

With a slight shiver, he returned his attention to the blond woman, who was now standing up again, snapping her fingers on alternating hands in thought as she looked at the shelves before her. Her expression was the same as his dad while trying to choose between his ego and asking for directions. "O-kay," she finally said, making a choice. "Last question: Where are your books on Knightmares?"

"Oh, those are right over there in the psychology section," he responded happily, pointing to a shelf two rows back directly behind her, a big sign reading "Dream Analysis" sitting plainly on top.

The young woman saw it easily, but then started glancing back and forth between it and him. "'Psychology'? For Knightmares?" she finally asked, saying the first word as if for the very first time.

"Or-rr-rr…" Tham said, stretching the word out, his mind racing as to what she wanted, "the psychiatry section, if you prefer."

Her expression was still blank, but with a hint of confusion and borderline suspicion there. Suddenly, that changed as a light bulb went off in her head, suddenly becoming happy, albeit with a hint of the mischievous. "Ah, I see now. Psychology… nightmares. Got it." Crouching back down to her stacks of books, organizing them in some order of priority he couldn't discern, she thanked him perfunctorily, tagging on that she wouldn't need him anymore.

After "you're welcome"-ing her, Tham turned and walked away, slightly put off by that last bit of weirdness. He also had the mild feeling he'd forgotten something, then chucked it up to the customer having a blond moment – _or maybe blondes call it having a brunette moment_, he chuckled mentally – as he walked back the way he came.

This of course took him through the manga section again, where he saw the _Mars Warrior_ book had been laid atop the other paperbacks rather than slid back in place. He tsked at that, such behavior being a pet peeve of his since he started at Word's Worth. As he reached for it, he also remembered her thumbing through it and worried that she may also have bent up the paper…

"_The paper"? Newspapers! Oh, crud! _

He suddenly remembered what he'd meant to ask her earlier and turned on his heel. Speed-walking back to the military section, he began to call out. "Ma'am?! Hello! Sorry, but it's me again!"

As he turned the corner, the woman shot up to her feet, an alarmed look on her face as her hand shoved something back into her purse. He couldn't quite see what it was in time but it was definitely some small plastic device. _Oh, Lord. Please don't tell me after all that, she was just going to take pictures with her iWhatsit_, he thought annoyed.

He then saw where none of the books she'd pulled out had been opened, and were still being organized in some way evidently. Also, the maps she'd selected were sitting on the edge of a shelf. Between this and that what he'd seen in her hand was definitely plastic assured him that whatever she was doing, at least she hadn't been shoplifting.

_Screw it_, he decided. _Just do what you came over to do and leave it alone. You need to finish up the restocking_.

"Sorry to intrude, ma'am, but I forgot to mention: _USA Today_ is offering a discounted subscription through Word's Worth until the end of May. We have free sample editions stacked up by the cash registers and the information counters if you'd like to sample one." This all came out in a more-or-less professional tumble of words, Tham wanting to get this over and done with.

Slightly embarrassed as he was with himself, he pretty much missed the look of intensity on the young woman's face, her body language shifting to fight-or-flight mode. She paused for a moment as her mind integrated what he'd said and composed a response, her heart rate slowing back to normal.

"_USA Today_… the newspaper. Yes, I actually saw those on the way in," she said with a certain hint to her voice he couldn't identify. "No thank you," she added with relieved finality.

With a friendly but noncommittal nod of his head, Tham finally returned to dealing with the maps then headed into the stockroom, where he had the day's shipment of magazines and newspapers to deal with. As he did so, he looked around and thought that he or, preferably, someone else had made a mistake. Seeing his boss, he waved at her.

"Sorry, Bernice," he said as she came over, the bespectacled woman not much older than himself having made it a morale-boosting rule to keep things informal as long as customers were out of sight. "I can't find the new _USA Today_. The extras for the promotional deal, that is," he explained.

"There's not going to be any, Tham. What's there is there until they're either all taken or the promotion runs out."

"Uh, the ones out there _now_ are nearly a week old. Won't it be hard to push the deal when we're giving out-of-date copies?"

Bernice let out an annoyed breath, but he could tell it wasn't directed at him. "The home office won't throw away money on extra copies every day. Another reason we should really be offering two-day gift certificates for their web site, anyway." The last bit came out sotto voce as she repeated an idea she'd actually written to the branch office months ago with little to no response.

_It was too bad_, Tham thought as he carried the available newspapers to their assigned spot on the magazine racks. The front page story of the free samples was about the continued recovery in Japan following the earthquake, including contributions by the super-aircraft carrier U.S.S. _Ronald Reagan_ as a temporary power plant and depot for medical supplies. It was an important story, sure, but in his opinion it was headlines like on today's edition that would have hooked readers:

"BELLE REVE WARDEN ARRESTED IN CORRUPTION SCANDAL"

Belle Reve, the notorious maximum security penitentiary retrofitted to house convicts with super-powers and other abnormal abilities, had apparently been turned into a front for its occupants rather than their jail. Dr. Hugo Strange, the staff psychiatrist-turned-warden, stood accused of establishing a revolving door in the prison's system, giving the convicts the perfect excuse of being safely incarcerated while crimes were committed with their M.O.'s. The doctor's motives were in question, seeing as there was little indication of him receiving a cut of their profits, but still his actions were plain to see.

The article went on to talk about a major shake-up in the future for the prison's administration, along with faint speculation of the previous warden, an iron guts ex-lobbyist named Waller, returning to the job. Sparse mention was made of involvement by the Justice League in the investigation, most of the credit instead going to an F.B.I. branch office. The inference was still there though, saying suspicion of the warden ran as far back as last November, following the artificial blizzards that hammered the country along with the attempted assassination of a foreign dignitary.

_Not much compared to the excitement last year, like those giant plant attacks_, Tham thought. _But it's been kind of quiet the last few months, plus Kate and William have been getting most of the attention lately._

As he continued skimming through the story, the image of the customer he'd dealt with a few minutes before receded further and further, becoming a vague memory of a blonde tourist in a green top.

Indeed, a few weeks later, Tham couldn't be able to recall her at all, and certainly not in connection with what had happened in the meantime. Not that he would have time to do so, busy as he was with blood drives, helping to distribute food and blankets, and occasionally helping to dig through rubble for what scant survivors were still trapped. Although, if he'd noticed the short flash of light that came from behind the shelves in the military section after he'd left, he probably would have.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion _is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner. _


	2. Chapter One

**Knights or Justice?**

**Chapter 1: "Court of Equity" part 1**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**Imperial Palace, the City of Pendragon**

**Holy Empire of Britannia, mainland (a.k.a. Area 1)**

**Operation Wild Hunt plus one month, two weeks **

**(or, The Retaliation plus five days) **

"_It was a dark and stormy… mid-morning". Mmmm, no. Doesn't have quite the same ring to it_, he thought blithely. Or as blithely as Schneizel el Britannia, Second Prince and Chancellor of the Holy Empire of Britannia, ever thought. Actually, outside it was bright and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky. Cheerful really, as per usual with the local environs of Arizona.

How the sun-beaten province had changed since Europe's explorers and conquistadors had first set foot on the American continents, the old empires paving the way for the birth of a new one, Britannia. As its hold expanded with its borders moving ever westward before fanning out north and south, so too had the burgeoning empire's capital moved. The royal family originally made their homes in the Continental Congress's would-be capital, Philadelphia, chosen both for its geographic suitability and the obvious symbolism of Britannia's triumph over General Washington's pro-democratic uprising. Times changed, as did the moods of ensuing monarchs, and so the imperial center had moved as well.

Today, the seat of power was now shaded by the Superstition Mountains, as an artificial oasis which started as a novel summer home with a nearby village for housing the staff had inexplicably grown into a metropolis by any man's definition. Its centerpiece was the ruling sovereign's home, the Imperial Palace. A convergence of Gothic fairy tales settings with modern-day skyscraper techniques, it rose even higher thanks to an artificial plateau of glass, steel, and concrete, and was dwarfed only by the surrounding mountains.

The palace was surrounded twice more using the age-old system of an inner and an outer wall, albeit unobtrusively fashioned. First was a massive moat which practically formed a lake around the palace. Outside of that laid the district known as St. Darwin's Boulevard. A series of wooded areas, gardens, and villas, St. Darwin's also housed the imperial family, the crème de la crème of Britannia's aristocracy born literally from the Emperor's innumerable consorts.

Impressive and overpowering a sight as it was, the Empire's latest and ultimate capital had become a model for the colonial settlements – "concessions" in polite talk – that now dominated a score of conquered lands. From the ashes of fallen nations stood massive plinths laid upon with castles, military bases, and other facilities of varying necessity, which to behold was to gain a glimmer of the heart of Britannia itself. A model, a metropolis, and a monument all in one, Pendragon was the center to a worldwide power, determined to one day _be_ the world itself, sure to stand for all time.

Today, however, if one were to walk its hallways, you wouldn't feel that you were in the heart of Earth's grandest kingdom. At present, "dark and stormy" would be an apt description for the prevailing mood of the royal court. Used as they were to being within a decade of standing tall as masters of the world in fact rather than assumption, the repercussions of the past few days had left their mark on the assembled princes and princesses.

Not helping matters was that they'd had to convene within the palace's main conference room. Dominated by a massive table vaguely shaped like an inverted U, this chamber with its high-vaulted ceiling and Spartan feel – relatively speaking given the ubiquitous rococo style of the palace and its grounds – was intended for televised events and photo ops. By the time such events took place, a general consensus had already been formed along with a _de facto_ script for the assembled royals to follow. It was a set really, intended to project a sense of solidarity in purpose and strength to their audience, be they noble or commoner, friend or foe. In the past, it simply wouldn't have done to hold an _actual_ meeting there.

This was not the past, however; in fact, there was a strong possibility that it was the beginning of a frightening new age. And for that reason, rather than a mere stage, today it was truly a war room… or at least trying to be one.

Breaking off from his mental meanderings over the capital's history, Schneizel took in the pale expressions plastered upon many of his half-brothers and sisters, and saw no less than what he'd expected: Fear. Odysseus, Guinevere, and several others stared unblinkingly at the massive overhead screen at the far end of the room. There was anger too though, evident as Carine and the small remainder shot accusing looks at the team of scientists Schneizel had assembled from Project Tarnhelm for the presentation.

Garnering the most scrutiny were Tarnhelm's two key members, one for having initiated the project, the other for having unknowingly sidetracked it. The unlikely latter was a teenaged girl in glasses, her olive-green hair gathered up into a professional-looking bun rather than her standard pigtails. Normally a lowly high school student, Nina Einstein squirmed self-consciously under their gaze, shooting the occasional glance beseeching help from either Schneizel or her former classmate beside him. Contrarily, the other, an Honorary Britannian late of the former Republic of Mexico, stood straight and tall, detached as ever in a way even the Chancellor couldn't achieve.

Over a year ago, Eddie Dorado had been just another Number slaving away for pocket change as a janitor in one of Area Three's more prestigious universities. That ended when he'd been uncovered as the mysterious prodigy who'd been accessing – and correcting – complicated equations that even the head of the physics department had been dithering over for months. Not unexpectedly, he was fired without preamble and chased off campus while those who benefited from his work tried to pass it off as their own. Fortunately, the truth had unfolded as a consequence of inter-departmental rivalry, and within a few weeks' time the former janitor was brought before His Highness. One glorified but deservedly difficult G.E.D. test later, and Eduardo Luis Dorado was a newly minted doctor of quantum physics, answering directly to the Second Prince.

Schneizel's gamble paid off almost immediately as Dr. Dorado approached him with a series of equations concerning faster-than-light subatomic particles, and their application. His ideas had fallen outside even Schneizel's understanding of the field, but a few sessions with other physicists on his speed dial – Osterman, Brown, Lizardo, etc. – showed that Dorado was within striking distance of a breakthrough in technology:

"_Teleportation; (n.) the act of bypassing physical space to achieve instantaneous transportation of matter." _

By all rights it should just be a flight of fancy, barely theoretical within the field of scientific possibility. And here this former mop-jockey had brought the key to achieving it within humanity's – or rather, Britannia's – grasp. Even those most opposed to the prince's sponsorship of the former Three had cheered it would begin a new era for the world.

And indeed it would, for it was the perfect delivery system, better even than the _Damocles_ fortress he'd been drawing up. All Schneizel needed now was the appropriate weapon, and the world would be humbled and brought underneath his protective umbrella for life.

First things first, of course: They had to make it work.

A whole quadrant of Schneizel's personal research institute had been sealed off under high security for experimentation and development of Dorado's theories. Mounds of money were spent. Hundreds of equations were calculated to be either abandoned or refined. Sophisticated equipment and materials were assembled in ways their inventors could never have imagined. Such was the life of the program, named Tarnhelm in a typically Britannian bout of Norse mythology-lust, for five long months. With help coming from the most unlikeliest of places, the final hurdle in the theory phase was completed, and the experimental stage began. _That_ was when things had gotten interesting.

The first experiment held great promise and yet seemed a disappointment all at once. For safety's sake, a section of their main lab was walled in with five-inch-thick rectangular plates of titanium- steel, one of them installed with an almost equally thick window of bulletproof glass, and another a vault-like door. These were assembled over and around the output couplers, a pair of medium-sized saucer dish-like contraptions hardwired into the institute's powerful supercollider. A half-foot cube of pure carbon was taken inside the so-called "Seven-League Booth" and left at a precisely equidistant point between the OC's. Here Dorado's theorized particles would meet and produce a quantum flux condition, spreading and affecting whatever body of matter occupied that same space.

Hunched around the viewing port with their sponsor standing in front, the scientists watched with baited breath as a switch was thrown and the room slowly filled with a high-pitched whine. Almost unexpectedly, the booth filled with light as the cube seemingly replicating itself with rows of a dozen or more copies expanding from it in all vertical directions. Like a series of afterimages, they were increasingly translucent but otherwise fully formed, these duplicates of the cube holding in place just for a moment before suddenly collapsing upon the original, which vanished in a flash of light.

That was the whole of this simple "test-firing" and the nine that followed it. The cube, regardless of what material they used, failed to rematerialize in the adjacent booth across the lab which was the calculated exit point. Hope was not lost however, for while it was apparent that the cubes were simply being disintegrated, all their hard work pointed to the cubes being sent somewhere.

To learn more, Dorado and some of Tarnhelm's more competent engineers tinkered for weeks, finally producing the first experimental return module. In essence a mini-IFF transponder, the module transmitted on the same quantum frequency the booth experiment was using after a timed delay. In the next experiment, the module was affixed to the cube and teleported along with it. A few minutes later, a follow-up experiment was performed with Dorado's particles now colliding upon unoccupied space, the intention that the resultant field of quantum fluctuation would draw the teleported cube and module back from its unknown destination. There was another flash and, sure enough, the cube and its module had reappeared, just scant millimeters off from where they had originally laid

With this one experiment, it was proven both that process worked and it could safely handle sophisticated machinery with a power source. With new life breathed into the project, further experiments continued at a brisk pace, and began to include organic life, starting with plants and followed by increasingly sophisticated animals. The module, now called a Tarnhelm itself, too was refined, eventually becoming in essence a miniaturized teleporter that stored Dorado's particles to achieve the effect by itself.

After a rhesus macaque, Peanut, had reappeared, bringing home with her a stick covered with ants she was happily munching on, it was finally decided to find out where everything had been going. Peanut was next equipped with a modified Tarnhelm that also functioned as GPS tracker, whose signal they failed to find after several experiments. Finally, in desperation an experiment sent Peanut along with both a Tarnhelm and a camcorder. The footage she returned with revealed that, while they hadn't actually been teleporting anything in their experiments after all, Schneizel and the project heads had stumbled upon a far grander discovery than they had ever anticipated.

A smile played across Schneizel's face at the memory. For the first time in quite awhile, he'd felt actual shock, overwhelmed by the weight of this discovery. A minute later, he'd been back in the saddle, ordering a few more experiments with Peanut, now equipped with instruments for receiving and recording radio and TV transmissions, before collating a report for his father, the Emperor Charles zi Britannia. He did no such thing out of respect or loyalty, only the knowledge that such a momentous discovery, if kept secret for too long a time, would be potential ammo for an accusation of disloyalty, if not outright treason. As much as he waved off most matters as trivial, His Majesty had made it a point that he always wanted to know when his children had stumbled upon something… interesting. And sooner, not later.

This self-same report now lay strewn across the conference table, copied multiple times and shared among the Second Prince's brothers and sisters. Not that many of them had even so much as flipped through it. More attention had been paid to the screen, where had played a PowerPoint presentation meant as a visual aid to the report. Its final sequence had shown a model graphic of Earth connected by arrows to a pair of duplicate Earths beneath it. Both of these in turn had their own set of descending Earths, from which branched yet another set, and another and another and another. The point of view eventually pulled back to show that the original model was itself one of a pair of Earths which belonged to an Earth in yet another set, forming a family tree of worlds that seemed to both ascend and descend into infinity. Silence had reigned since that last moment, explaining the fruits of Dorado's research and the unexpected detour that young Nina's equations had sent the project on.

_Perhaps I should reveal world-shattering scientific discoveries more often_, Schneizel thought to himself. _It's made what should have been a chaotic meeting far more manageable than our standard get-togethers. _

But it was not to be. A not-so-quiet shuffle of chair legs upon carpet drew the eyes of the gathered royals to Schneizel's slightly younger sister, Princess and Marshal Cornelia li Britannia, as she realigned her seat from where she'd been watching the screen. She already knew most of what the presentation had to say, having been the first and only of Schneizel's half-siblings to be brought into the fold by His Majesty. Casting one last side-glance at the schoolgirl, whose involvement _had_ been news to the Goddess of the Battlefield, Cornelia then skewered the occupant of the seat to Schneizel's right with a glare.

"So, basically," she began with a disquieting low voice, "this is all your fault, Lelouch."

_Tsk. Should I really be so surprised?_ thought Schneizel, frowning slightly as his beloved sister's attitude and antics continued before him.

With her free hand, Cornelia picked up then dropped loudly back onto the table a stack of other, much thicker reports. They were documentation summarizing the damage throughout the Empire, caused by an orgy of ruin and sabotage rent upon Sakuradite mines, military outposts, colonial concessions, and various other imperial holdings, not the least of which was the heart of Britannia itself.

_The heart of Britannia… in more ways than one, _he mused_, if the remaining Knights of the Round conclude what is already widely speculated_.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion _is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner. _


	3. Chapter Two

**Knights or Justice?**

**Chapter 2: "Coffee Clash"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**Imperial Palace, the City of Pendragon **

**Holy Empire of Britannia, mainland (a.k.a. Area 1)**

**The Retaliation plus two days**

Despite all his accomplishments and titles, Sir Bismarck Waldstein felt mildly self-conscious, as he and the newly arrived prince made their way, hurriedly but not unseemly so, through the halls of the Imperial Palace. He was of high birth himself, a duke no less, in addition to being the Knight of One, foremost member and leader of the Knights of the Round. Nevertheless, Waldstein was not royalty, not even via a marriage to one of the princesses, and Lelouch vi Britannia was. It wasn't done for a prince to walk behind a knight, even one so decorated as himself.

_Perhaps he wants you as a human shield?_ voiced a cynical portion of his mind.

The 11th Prince had been a lamb among wolves during his short childhood in Pendragon, and despite his rising star in the Empire since returning to the fold, he was hardly a prodigal son to the eyes of many of the imperial court. Even he who had it within his power to treat Lelouch as such, and to a degree had, viewed his prospects as still balanced upon a razor's edge. And it was for that above all other reasons that, if the absurd possibility was true, Lelouch was making a grave mistake depending upon the Knight of One.

Charles zi Britannia was his Lord and Master, ordained by God to drag Britannia and by extension mankind out of the muck and mire of its sinful history to greater glory. For that alone, Sir Bismarck would never abandon his post to shield another soul, not even a frightened, helpless child; in fact, he would do quite the contrary. He'd done so before, hence Lelouch's checkered past with the royal family, and he would do it again if need be, as much as it was necessary to afford His Majesty the time to write the final page on mankind's sordid past.

No, far more likely a reason the prince had insisted that he be led the way was simply because he didn't know where the others were gathered. The Emperor had shut himself away on what many assumed was yet another sabbatical from the mundane daily grind of the Empire. And so the lion's share of responsibility yet again had fallen to Prince Schneizel, who'd called together an emergency meeting of the royal court in light of yesterday's events. As always, Prince Odysseus and other available princes and princesses were gathering in one of the palace's lounge areas for their meeting, a coffee klatch to be more accurate. There, details could be addressed and hammered out, along with any frayed nerves and hasty words, in the comfort they were accustomed to before proceeding to the palace's main conference room with its high ceiling, vowel-shaped table, spotlights, and cameras.

_And being a stranger to the palace for so long, Lelouch would have no idea which lounge they used or where it would be_, he concluded with a brief affirmative nod to himself. He then steeled his neck against turning to look back at the prince over his shoulder, his description of the siblings' meetings bringing about another thought. _Perhaps it would be better if he missed the meeting after all. From the looks of him, caffeine is the last thing his system needs_.

Seventeenth in line to the throne, an officer of no little rank in His Majesty's military, a nobleman since his success in Africa, and most recently the duly appointed Viceroy of Area 11, the so-called Black Prince of Britannia had arrived at the airport just a half-hour ago after his supersonic flight from the former Japanese islands. Arrayed in a crisp uniform as black as Waldstein's own was white, austere yet still ornate with some brief silver piping, Lelouch kept his emotions whatever they may be firmly in check, a far cry from the defiant child who'd been stripped of his title seven years ago. His gaze was steady, his jaw set, an attaché case clasped firmly in one arm while the other hung loosely but not slovenly so. And yet…

Those same hands twitched mildly every so often, and his brow had a sheen of cold sweat upon it. When the prince had been greeted at the entrance, even with his one free eye it hadn't escaped Waldstein's attention that one of his legs jiggled ever so slightly, as if he wished to be somewhere else very badly. Given his past, it wouldn't be too far off that he was nervous of having another meeting with His Majesty, but all the same… Having lived through the invasion of Japan, the death of his beloved sister, and the intervening years as a commoner – "Little better than the guttersnipe that he truly is," some gossiped – one would expect Lelouch to be able to take anything life threw at him and remain standing.

Of course, he recalled that the viceroy's palace for Area 11 had been attacked by the invaders, a fight occurring within his very office. To have actually suffered a close-combat situation unexpectedly was surely a traumatic episode, especially in so familiar an environment. Waldstein again internally nodded to himself that this was the likely answer, slowing his pace as he approached the final turn towards the royal siblings' lounge. Standing aside, he gestured for the prince to precede him, and then fell in step as they carried on to the doors, which were opened by a pair of helmeted royal guards, standing ramrod straight bearing combination rifles/pole-arms, their livery flawless as always.

Inside was an expensively decorated yet still pleasant large seating area with armchairs, settees, and coffee tables rearranged by the servants in preparation for the special assembly. While not standing room only, it was still well-filled with the Emperor's children, a few having even brought along their retainers and advisors. Many were already in tiny groups speaking quietly among themselves, the occasion soft peal of laughter sadly reflecting that not all were concerned with the present crisis but rather were engaged in typical small talk.

While not announced as one would find with a formal ball, Lelouch's entrance did not go unnoticed. The most typical reaction of many was a glance his direction, followed by a brief grimace, then a return to their idle chatter. Waldstein then smiled broadly in spite of himself as one reaction, unlike the rest but typical in its own way, played out before him.

"Lelouch? You're here! You're safe! You're here _and_ you're safe! Oh, thank Heavens!" the Third Princess of Britannia cried out as she launched herself at her favorite among her half-brothers. While she'd been standing only a few feet from the very doors they just passed through, it was sufficient for Euphemia li Britannia to gain enough momentum to nearly knock the Black Prince to the floor as she tackle-hugged him.

Until then, she'd been standing apart from the rest, silently dabbing her reddened eyes with a frilly handkerchief. Yesterday, her sister Cornelia's headquarters in Gibraltar had been one of the areas attacked, and now the marshal and her closest aides were missing. There were always rumors and preliminary reports such as these, Cornelia being habitually incommunicado for hours at a time as she led her troops from her custom-made Gloucester, but this time such reports had been authenticated. Euphemia had been informed of this development that morning, and while she was now past the crisis stage in her anxiety, the perfunctory well-wishes and crocodile tears of many of her siblings only served to rattle her composure.

Even in her worried frame of mind, however, the pink-haired girl carried herself with her normal exuberance. As she continued to bear-hug her reserved brother, a fond memory of Waldstein's first real meeting with her came to mind. He'd knelt on one knee in greeting as was customary, the five-year-old Euphemia in answer only looking at him with wide, quizzical eyes as if he were a kangaroo she'd unexpectedly come across in the foyer. She then did a clumsy but sincere curtsy as was expected of her before abandoning all decorum, wrapping her little arms around his neck and giving him a peck on the cheek, thanking him for protecting her father.

_I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've known His Majesty to be referred to as "father" by his children_, the Knight of One thought as he took in the matured young woman, still unchanged in many ways, before him. He frowned at the notion, finding it somehow disturbing although he wasn't quite sure why. The Emperor had taken upon the duty of fulfilling the Lord's work, after all, in the face of which "family time" was inconsequential. _They'll all reconcile and thank him in the end, whether in this world or the next, I'm sure of it_.

Deciding to refocus on his present duty, which was to look after – or keep an eye on, to be more honest – the royal court in his master's absence, Waldstein shook himself as he returned to the present, and so picked up on some behavior that _was_ uncharacteristic…

There had been the initial surprise, of course, but instead of the usual embarrassed acceptance of the inevitable, Lelouch had actually welcomed his half-sister's undignified greeting, returning her hug wholeheartedly. He oddly seemed unwilling to let her go for once, going so far as to rest his head against her shoulder even as she did likewise. It lasted only for a minute though before Lelouch – having drawn some measure of strength from her attentions – placed his now-steadied hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushed themselves apart.

"Yes, Euphie, I'm here now," he spoke evenly, "and as you can see I'm perfectly fine. So you can – no… _NO!_" Lelouch's tone was sympathetic but still admonishing as Euphemia's expression returned to cold dread, looking away as a fresh stream of tears threatened to erupt. Plucking the hankie from her hand, he gripped her shoulder and made her face him as he dried her eyes, still speaking words of encouragement. "Euphie, Cornelia's going to be okay. She's made of iron, we both know that. And wherever she may be, she has Sir Gilbert and General Darlton with her. Just like you have me, and Odysseus, and Schneizel, and… so many of us right alongside you."

Having taken up his place at the head of the room before the main doors, Waldstein couldn't help but hear this last bit fall unconvincingly from Prince Lelouch's mouth as he tried to calm Euphemia over the fate of their missing sister. With a glance, he understood why as, over the princess's shoulder, Lelouch could plainly see two of his other half-sisters, Guinevere su and Carine ne Britannia. They were already making themselves at home on one of the more strategically-placed divans, Guinevere idly flipping her ever-present compact mirror over and around her fingers while Carine scowled at the scene Lelouch and Euphemia were making, giving them a look both derisive and jealous.

For most of the half-siblings, the hierarchical stance of their respective mothers had failed to garner enough attention for His Majesty to father a second child with them, and so each was in a way an only child. Add in that they were most often spoiled rotten and one found a host of princes and princesses who had little understanding or appreciation for the closeness of family. There were a bare handful of exceptions, though, which either came naturally as with the li Britannia sisters or Lelouch and his sister (_God rest her soul_), or by overcoming the emotional hurdle as had Odysseus, Schneizel, and to a lesser degree Clovis.

This did _not_ include these two princesses, however. Among the earliest born and therefore most prominent children of the Emperor, they'd been expected to share a good deal of time associating with royal siblings of similar status when they were younger… which often had proven a bad idea.

Guinevere was disinclined to associate with others, holding herself at a smug distance. The First Princess of the Empire, a childhood belief that she was thus owed a Prince Charming straight out of Brothers Grimm led her to constantly maintain her appearance so she would look perfect when that happy day finally arrived. This had overtime devolved into self-obsession, her beauty maintained while her soul shriveled with neglect.

For the longest time, Sir Bismarck liked to think that, somewhere deep down, there beat the heart of a hopeless romantic within her. That was until the debut of her latest accessory, which was a tattoo of a rose – _A "tramp-stamp" as the commoners call it, if I'm not mistaken_ – upon her left breast. Displaying it necessitated changes to her wardrobe, whose décolletage already taxed the boundaries of good taste. After that, a part of him threw up his hands in disgust and tried not to think about her at all.

Vain and snobby as she was, Guinevere had still known well enough to carry herself respectfully aloof while younger, leaving it to her mother to heap derision upon her competition for the throne. This on one occasion resulted in a still-discussed showdown where Lelouch's mother had driven her personal Knightmare Frame the _Ganymede_ onto the grounds of Pendragon to demand an apology from her rival consort for her perpetual rumor-mongering.

Carine, on the other hand, made no pretense of her contempt, most of which had been aimed at her primary rival, Princess Nunnally. Born earlier by little more than a few weeks, the Fourth Princess already technically outranked her when she unknowingly rubbed salt into the wound with her warm and appreciative personality. This was a direct contrast to Carine's own, which at first seemed to be a Cornelia-esque appreciation for the martial lifestyle but soon revealed itself as a blood lust of the sort which in ages past had born coliseums and gladiatorial games. This attitude went beyond the standard Britannian values of conquest and subjugation, and so had earned her little in the way of respect or friends and allies.

Taking his eye off Carine, Waldstein glanced at the other royals gathered around her like a herd of antelopes by a crocodile's stream. Most disregarded her as a violent brat, an attitude she encouraged with her hair, worn in oversized pigtails, and her clothes, which brought to mind a child's playsuit with their blown-up pantaloons. A few, however, noted the O-ring adorning her choker as well as the oversized hoop earrings she wore from her pigtails, and humorously imagined a wild ram that had broken its chains.

_Oh, if they only knew_, he thought with a chill. As Knight of One, he was allowed access to the Emperor's secret files on his children's many foibles and delinquencies, and so was well aware of the Fifth Princess's well-hidden proclivities.

In the distance, bells tolled the hour, and the assembled royalty broke off from their little cliques and ambled to the available seats around the hall. As befitting his rank, Odysseus eu Britannia took up the unspoken executive chair for the meeting, a large comfortable bergère set before the main entrance. The couch on his right was taken up by Prince and Chancellor Schneizel, who'd arrived a minute beforehand alongside Kanon Maldini. An Earl and former classmate, Kanon at some point had become Schneizel's executive assistant and effectively his knight of honor among… other roles in the life of the White Prince of Britannia. With a beckoning gesture, Schneizel was joined by Lelouch, who guided a still-sniffling Euphemia.

As they sat, he briefly heard whispered conversation between Lelouch and Schneizel, the younger brother trying to ascertain their father's presence. Schneizel diplomatically whispered back that Odysseus was heading this meeting, as His Majesty had not answered a request for an audience. The Black Prince seemed to deflate a bit at this, which made Sir Bismarck wonder if maybe he _had_ wanted a meeting with the Emperor.

Despite the emergency state for which they had been called, everyone went through the social niceties of ordering drinks. Most had tea or coffee, although there was the occasional call for a glass of wine. Lelouch was the odd man out, ordering bottled water – specifying that it be brought unopened – for himself and Euphemia, who obviously needed to rehydrate. A suspicion that he was wary of being poisoned proved true when he angrily sent the arriving bottles back after noticing that the stewards, misinterpreting his request, had twisted the caps off to break the seal then twisted them back on beforehand. This earned him a whispered joke between his siblings that the stewards had been afraid he'd be unable to do it himself, which the Black Prince stoically ignored.

"My brothers and sisters, loyal followers of Emperor Charles," Odysseus began, the mild-mannered Crown Prince attempting to sound commanding as he called the royal court to order. "The last twenty-four hours have seen unprecedented damage fall upon our great nation. These have gone beyond the expected raids along the borders by competing powers, or acts of terrorism committed by insurgents within our Areas. A blow has been struck by a faceless enemy against Britannia at key junctures throughout our colonies, leaving the stability of the Empire in question.

"Attempts to contain the extent of the damage have only been mildly successful," he admitted. "While the public sees fit to continue trusting in our ability to safeguard them, there are those both within and without who know or at least suspect the whole truth. Those without smell blood in the water, and those within demand immediate action, a course only we can set." And with this last powerful utterance, the handsome young man then came to a standstill. After a moment's silence, Odysseus then deflated his own inertia with an embarrassed cough into his fist before turning the proceedings over to Schneizel as he returned to his seat. Crown Prince or not, many silently rolled their eyes or sadly shook their heads.

Politely thanking his elder brother for the introduction, the Chancellor stood as he began with a brief rundown of the listed attacks, verifying or discounting many of what his siblings had ascertained. "Most telling have been the attacks in Areas 11 and 18," he cited. "Not only were hangars full of Knightmare Frames demolished, and Sakuradite mines made to collapse upon themselves, but our siblings Cornelia and Lelouch were attacked by the invading parties. Lelouch remains with us," he added, gesturing to his seated brother, he looked back in him in fear for what he would say next. He had not long to wait.

"Cornelia, on the other hand, is still missing, as are her chief attendants. Her Gloucester was heavily damaged to the point that she actually ejected from it." This provoked whispers around the table, as many were aware of her proficiency with the two-story armored exoskeletons that had become the backbone of the Empire's military. Euphemia merely buried her face in her hands, too drained to cry any more as Schneizel continued. "The cockpit was found a short distance away, but had been ripped open, with no sign of the princess within. Sir Gilbert disappeared under similar circumstances, having gone into battle alongside his lady, while General Darlton simply went missing while overseeing attempts to contain a fire that gutted the Moorish castle which Cornelia had made her main headquarters."

"'Ripped open,' you say?" It was less a question than a statement from Guinevere, interrupting the proceedings. Waldstein narrowed his eye at her as she kicked one leg over the other as she swirled her drink in her hand, seemingly meditative. "That's what we _really_ want to know about, dear Schneizel. We can see for ourselves that Lelouch is here and that Cornelia isn't; what we don't see is how these attacks occurred. There are no reports of massed troops along our borders prior to the attacks, no reports of slain combatants recovered afterwards, and no one from Europe, Asia, or even the Number terrorists taking credit. Just inexplicable damage wrought upon our holdings that we depend on!"

The Knight of One cocked a surprised eyebrow at the concise, actually pertinent nature of the outburst from the woman oft referred to as the Modern-day Marie Antoinette. Evidence as to who was responsible was slim to none, which had done nothing but feed wild rumors. There was even talk of monsters and witches having carried out the attacks.

"I don't think they have anything to take credit for, Guinevere," Lelouch responded testily. "My attackers were not uniformed as any of the special force units of the Euro Ultra-union or the Chinese Federation. In fact, they weren't arrayed in what one would call standard uniforms by any stretch of the imagination. They, like their strange… skills, were too outlandish." He then nodded at Schneizel, inviting him to continue, but the First Princess was having none of it.

"'Outlandish,' Lelouch? Were they dressed as clowns? The front and backside of a pantomime horse? You and your staff have actually seen those responsible for these raids and were left behind to speak of them, and we _still_ have no idea of whom we are dealing with or even what to look for. So, pray tell, at least define 'outlandish,' mmmm?" she ended mockingly.

If the Black Prince had intended to respond, it was silenced by a sudden chorus of boney, clattering sounds. The noise was produced by the various cups, saucers, and glasses on the table, now shaking as if vibrated. They were soon joined by the chandeliers, then the paintings and affixed lights rattling on the walls. Sir Bismarck and the others in the lounge began to feel the vibrations carry up from the floor as they grew stronger and stronger. Busts shattered on the floor as they fell off their pedestals, potted plants fell over, and panes of glass cracked in both windows and display cabinets that threatened to tip over.

"An earthquake? On top of everything else?!" someone tittered aloud just as a sharp jolt rocked the castle. Barely a second went by before there was another jolt, followed by more, each accompanied by a sound that was either a massive wooden cracking or the muffled thump of a distant explosion. The shocks gained strength as they continued, seeming to come nearer and nearer, louder and louder. Many of the royals were already jumping out of their seats as they realized the accompanied sounds were centered beneath a point roughly in the middle of the room. Several, trying to remain inconspicuous, made their way towards the exit only to pull up short, Waldstein stepping forward as a platoon of royal guards entered, which inadvertently blocked their path. Tellingly, those gathered around Schneizel merely stood alongside him in nervous silence, waiting to see what would pop up.

And pop up it did, royal and noble alike screaming and ducking behind whatever cover was available as the floor exploded, the furniture situated upon it thrown up, torn up, and tossed outwards as a massive whirling conical object burst through with earth-shattering force. As quickly as it came up, it almost immediately reined itself in, coming to a halt just as its tip was about to touch a chandelier above (which after a moment fell loose anyway and shattered against it, glass fragments flying everywhere). Its rotation slowed down immensely as well, allowing them to see that it was indeed a massive drill bit jutting up from the floor, the base of it surrounded by torn wiring, insulation, tiles, and other whatnot from crashing up through the ceiling – and several other levels of the palace – below.

For just a moment, Waldstein suspected the Elevens of this attack. The Number Advisory Council – a committee of Honorary Britannians standard to each Area whose supposed purpose was to oversee the native population – for the former state of Japan had awhile ago contracted a series of Knightmares specified for construction and demolition purposes. The result was a modified Glasgow, called a Rascal or "Burai" in their native tongue, with hands replaced by large drills, among other options. He also knew from the Emperor's secret files that this N.A.C. and the Houses of Kyoto, the secret backers of terrorist activity in Area 11, were one and the same, meaning the Burais were actually intended as sanitized insurgency weapons. However, this drill was massive, almost six feet wide and twice as tall, far larger than those equipped on a Burai. And then there was its color: Green.

Yes, green. Phosphorescently so, too. It was a solid glow far more uniform than the Blaze Luminous deflector shields the Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corps was developing. Waldstein couldn't help but think that it looked like some mad artist had not only made a gigantic neon light, but also intricately molded it into the form of an awl.

As the dust settled and the room's occupants stopped screaming, the guards disentangled themselves from the royals and surrounded it, Waldstein joining them. He drew out the sword he was carrying as a sidearm, which sadly was just a perfunctory blade he'd worn for show. He hadn't been expecting to fight off an invasion that day, and so left behind in his quarters the ornate longsword he had with some difficulty learned to wield after he'd been appointed Knight of One. In addition to being a gift from His Majesty, it was composed of and shared the same strange properties as the materials that went into the massive MVS wielded by his Knightmare Frame, the _Galahad_. Looking at the iridescent monolith before him, he had an odd feeling that he could really use those properties right about now.

In front of him, the drill had come to a complete stop. He half-expected it to slide back down through the hole it had made, but instead a long vertical crease formed along its base. The sides of this crease then slid back, revealing that the drill was hollow on the inside. The opening widened until it formed a rectangular doorway like on an elevator, from which emerged three people – two men and one woman.

All three of them were tall and of athletic built, although they differed in how slim or muscular they were. Each of them wore dead-serious expressions that announced to all that they meant business. That and belts, simple leather belts each carrying a small boxy device like an oversized beeper, were the only things they all wore as he took in what had to be the most bizarre uniforms he'd ever seen.

One man was completely covered in a seamless layer of some silver-iron substance which gleamed like metal. While colored the same, the contours of his face and presence of hair in a military-style crew-cut inferred that his head alone was uncovered, although one could hardly gauge where "cloth" ended and flesh began other than somewhere along his neck. His garb, for lack of a better term, was only interrupted by gloves and boots as well as a red emblem on his chest. Studded with six sharply curved points, Waldstein at first thought it was a stylized Star of David before realizing it could also be the outline for a planetary model of the atom.

The other man was attired with cloth and skin clearly defined, revealing himself to be of African descent like himself. His uniform was snug and had a design and texture similar to a flight suit, although its color patterns were original. It was entirely black but for patches of green, notably around his collar and shoulders, as well as a circle on his chest set tightly between a pair of short horizontal stripes. This emblem and a ring on his right hand were the same fluorescent green as the drill, a clear indication that he was responsible for it.

Then there was the woman. She was dressed rather sparingly in what could be generously described as a red and blue bathing suit, divided at the waist by a golden corset. All the same, she had a militant air about her, underscored by the silver vambraces she wore, along with a zigzagging strip of a gold breastplate over her décolletage. Another, minor differing feature from her companions was the small satchel bag clipped to her belt alongside her device.

In spite of himself, Waldstein felt his mouth go dry at the sight of her. He'd already flinched a bit when he first got a glimmer of her through the still-settling dust, ascertaining a tall, curvaceous woman with a head of black hair and a stance that was regal but not presupposing like many in the imperial harem. It had recalled to him poor Lady Marianne, his fellow KOR and a favorite among His Majesty's consorts until her death.

Now that he could see her clearly, he wondered how he could have made such a comparison. Marianne's hair had been thick and dark but was still lustrous, while this woman's mane seemed to absorb light, which would have left one with the impression of a solid black mass but for the hint of individual hairs and separate tresses. Her skin tone was naturally tanned in a way that brought to mind some Euro-Mediterranean race, most likely the Spartans given her expression, itself far from the late Knight of Two's gentle features. While she wore no perfume, looking at her Waldstein could swear that he smelled blood, smoke, and fire burning upon some ancient battlefield, along with the distant clash of steel upon steel. No, the only woman he could properly compare her to was Sif, the Viking sword-maiden and lover of Thor, whose wheat-colored locks were replaced with a wig sown from the night itself.

The missing Princess Cornelia came a close second though, Waldstein's mind returning to Earth as she stepped forward, planting her red-booted feet on the ground, the silver man and the ring-wearer falling into step on either side of her like an honor guard. She walked casually a short way, heels clicking sharply on the floor, stopping only as Sir Bismarck and the guardsmen closed the distance, weapons at the ready.

The two men exchanged looks after taking in the guards' rifles, whose extended muzzles ended with pike-heads. The woman, however, paid them no mind as she locked eyes with Waldstein. Slowly placing a hand upon the satchel bag, she spoke, slowly and unthreateningly but still firm.

"We came here to talk."

The only response was a guardsman lifting up and aiming his rifle straight at the silver man's head, cocking the hammer with an audible click. Several of the others followed suit.

"Halberds in place of bayonets? Seriously?" Rather than frightened, the silver man sounded merely dubious at the display of force. He reached out as if to poke the tip of the pike-head playfully, seemingly unaware of the danger to him.

Suddenly, his hand glowed, a halo simulating the orbits of electrons appearing around it, before grabbing onto the pike. He squeezed, deforming the razor-sharp edges as the glow suffused into the pole-arm. The wide-eyed guard pulled back rather than firing, falling on his ass when the pike unexpectedly disintegrated along with a good portion of the muzzle, the remainder of which shattered like brittle sandstone when the rifle hit the floor. The remaining guards all leapt into action, the four nearest to the silver man concentrating on him, only to receive punches that sent them flying even as their pikes merely flattened where they struck him.

Taking their lesson from their embarrassed brothers-in-arm, the guards surrounding the other man stood back and unloaded their magazines at him. For his part, the man in green merely stood in place while a thin bubble suddenly enveloped him, effortlessly absorbing the impact of the bullets which fell off onto the floor. This provoked a quick lull in the onslaught, an opportunity the ring-wearer used to fling his arms out toward his attackers. In answer, the bubble broke up into sections that flew out, wrapping around the surrounding guards like plastic wrap. Their arms pinned helplessly to their sides, the guards sailed across the room as the remaining inertia of the bubble's fragments played out. Some were merely knocked to the floor, others crashed onto overturned furniture, and one poor fellow bowled over a small pack of cowering royals. Naturally, they seemed more angry about a common guardsman flopping about upon them than having an intruder with supernatural powers in their midst.

This left "Sif", who stood unmoved by the violence around her. Her gaze was steady and almost a dare to try something, a challenge the Knight of One accepted. With a slow but powerful swing, Waldstein brought the sword over and around his head before driving it down to cleave the warrior maiden in twain. In response, she crossed her arms over her head, the blade landing upon, and blunting against, the vambraces decorating her forearms. Despite this, the force of Waldstein's blow pushed her down as she was seemingly forced into a crouch.

It was from this position that one of her legs shot out, kicking Waldstein out from under his own. Going into a spin on her other foot as he fell, she swung out with a fist that caught Sir Bismarck hard in the gut and launched him backwards. The wind knocked out of him, he reflexively let go of his sword as he landed and skid across the coffee table behind him, cups and glasses shattering underneath his weight. Through the flashing spots before his eyes, the knight could see the woman standing up straight as she completed her spin, again facing the royal court. She also caught his sword, which had flipped end over end into the air, by its hilt, then held it aloft over him. He dimly heard Princess Euphemia scream as "Sif" raised the sword high over her head, the perfect position to deliver the fatal blow.

It never came.

"_ENOUGH!_' she cried out, all action halting immediately. Grabbing the tip in her other hand, she then slammed the sword down on her knee, breaking it into halves which she then tossed over her shoulder. "We are here to talk," she repeated forcefully as her companions took up her sides again, "and _you_ are going to listen."

"Savages," somebody dismissed them after a pause. "What could a bunch of barbarian freaks possibly say that would interest us?"

"If we were savages, instead of talking we would have just killed you… and them," the man in green retorted as he jerked a thumb back at the giant drill, the glow of his ring intensifying just for a moment.

In response, the drill bit began to disappear, breaking up into minute green sparks like fireflies as it melted from its tip down to the floor. Soon all that remained of its presence was the massive hole in the floor, into which some debris fell, no longer braced against the drill. The assembled nobility then gasped as, hovering over the hole, the drill's other occupants were revealed: Princess Cornelia li Britannia, Sir Gilbert G.P. Guilford, and General Andres Darlton.

As Waldstein struggled to his feet, Earl Maldini helping him as he stumbled slightly, the three missing soldiers floated away from the hole. Suffused with the same green glow as the drill and the bubble, they hovered a few inches above the floor as they came over to the group.

The silver man grabbed onto Darlton, who it became clear as the glow receded was tightly bound with a series of plastic-cuffs, as well as a patch of duct tape slapped over his mouth. His movements now restricted only by the cuffs, it became clear he was wide awake as he began to violently struggle against his bonds, peppering the air with a string of muffled profanities. The eyes on his usually cool, wolf-like demeanor were now frantic and bugged out, staring daggers at the intruders as he screamed behind his gag. He continued to do so as some guardsmen, back up on their feet again, grabbed hold of him and carried him a safe distance away.

In response, the silver man shot off an obligatory if respectful salute. "General," he said professionally, which only earned a pause before Darlton started cursing from behind his gag again.

The man in green took care of Guilford, who with a touch turned in midair until he was floating horizontally. Hooking a foot around the leg of a coffee table, the ring-wielder pulled it in front of him then pressed down on the floating form of Cornelia's knight of honor until he came to rest on the table, the green aura rescinding from him as well. Now clearly visible, the knight was unconscious, his thin features slack. His only restraint was a neck brace that kept his head immobile.

Lastly was the princess. As with her knight, her position was readjusted to a lying position as the woman tilted a couch back onto its legs before laying her upon it. As the glow cleared itself, one could see she'd been through hell: Her uniform was ragged, a boot had been removed to bandage her ankle, there was a dark bruise on her chin and on her temple, while her left arm was covered in plaster, among other field dressings and signs of medical aid. With a cry, Euphemia tore loose from her brothers and, snatching a water bottle up from the floor, raced over to her no-longer-missing sister. Sitting on the floor, she muttered reassurances as she poured the cool water onto her hanky which she used as a cold compress.

The princess must have been partially awake as her eyes stirred beneath their lids at the sensation. "Eu… phie?" she mumbled in a daze.

"It's me, sister," Euphemia replied, happy to hear her again. "You're back at Pendragon. Everything's okay. A doctor is coming and—"

She didn't get much further as Cornelia, the princess feared and cursed by the world as the Witch of Britannia, began to stir. "Run…" she spoke softly through a fog, her free hand attempting to reach for her. "Run… away, Euphie."

It was a little thing, but those who knew Cornelia were struck dumb by this. The princess continued to mutter for another moment or two before she slipped back unconscious, her steady breathing the only indication she was still alive. Euphemia simply sat there still for a moment, before turning and looking up at the warrior woman, somehow inherently knowing that it was she who'd attacked her sister and left her in this state.

"You… I…" Euphie sputtered for a moment, her mouth spasming like a fish gulping for air. Watching her, Waldstein could see the alien emotion of rage trying to find an outlet within her. It finally mixed with fear and sadness as, tears streaming anew, she found her voice. "I'll never, _never_ forgive you for this," she said softly.

Surprisingly, the woman's response was calm and even as it was before, her gaze returning Euphie's declaration with only regret. "Then one day you must kill me or die trying. Is it in your heart to do that?"

The Pink Princess squeaked in response, both to the retort and apparent realization of her own words. Pulling closer to her wounded sister, as if cowering from herself, she returned to caring for Cornelia, tilting her head a bit to feed her some water.

Standing shakily aside the Princes Odysseus and Schneizel, Sir Bismarck paid witness to this exchange silently as did they, perking up as the woman returned her attention to them. Walking up to the end of the coffee table set before the bergère, she stopped there, seeing fit to use it as the border between herself and the standing royals. As she unclipped her satchel, he called out to her, sticking to protocol.

"Who approaches the royal court of Britannia?" he demanded.

She gave him a blank look before sharply pointing a finger at the diadem upon her brow, a thick solid band of gold with a red star emblazoned upon it. "I am Diana, Crown Princess of Themyscira, ambassador for my world, and I _will_ be heard," she responded authoritatively. "It concerns the incursions your government made against us in the past months."

"'My _world_'"? Many of those gathered exchanged looks at this use of the word. Obviously, she had mistranslated her Britannian and meant to say "country," they assumed. Sir Bismarck, however, felt a chill run up his back, while an unreadable expression on Prince Schneizel's face nevertheless conveyed that he felt the same.

Ignoring all this, the woman – Diana – had returned to her satchel, pulling out a series of blown-up photographs which she tossed onto the tabletop. Each photograph showed a rhesus macaque with different gadgets strapped to it, gamboling about a suburban neighborhood. Some were grainy still images taken from surveillance footage, while others were clear and focused, made with cameras or cellphones with a snapshot feature. They showed it rummaging through garbage cans, playing in trees, typical monkey behavior. Others were of it being chased by residents with nets, trash bags, even guns. Waldstein had seen the monkey's point-of-view on these antics among the information Prince Schneizel had attached to his report on the Tarnhelm Project to His Majesty.

_Oh my God... they're Americans_, he thought astonished, not having connected the raids to the backwards world of Earth-2. Bismarck clinched his jaw at the sight just as Schneizel lifted his chin up with a knowing look, subtle movements which weren't lost on their guests.

"Had a feeling 'Chim-Chim' would look familiar to somebody," the ring-wearer intoned. "People can miss chunks of rock and other junk popping up out of nowhere. But a monkey doing a magic act every other day? We were just about to start looking into that…"

Diana interrupted, a decidedly acidic edge to her voice. "When you did _this_ to us," she said as another, much thicker stack of photos was pulled out. These she threw up into the air, a cascade death and destruction frozen in time coming down on the assembled heads of royalty.

The first batch with the monkey had just earned odd looks from those not in the know. These, however, earned a wholly different reaction. Odysseus and Lelouch both gasped, although the latter followed this up with an angered glare at the Second Prince which silently demanded answers. Carine's arms flailed around in the air, trying to grab as many as she could for whatever morbid scrapbook she had in mind for them. Schneizel, for his part was a rock, standing resolute as the cascade of visual accusations rained down upon him. He did have the grace to turn away his eyes from some of the grimmer images of bodies, and there were plenty of them.

The bodies came either one by one or in groups. Many were civilians while others wore uniforms that denoted them as police, soldiers, or emergency response workers. Some had been burnt nearly to ash, others had massive bullet holes or shrapnel wounds, and others had been crushed beneath rubble. Few but noticeable were those that had been run over, stepped upon, or crushed as if by a massive hand.

These photos had all been taken after the attack had ended, while the rest were a combination of the same or in the moment. They were from any number of places, showing urban areas, wide open fields, military installations, even an amusement park in a few. Most were either ripped apart or in the process. Few and far between were those that were relatively peaceful as a Knightmare or two did nothing but stand around looking dangerous, as if just taking in the view of wherever they had "landed".

A large chunk of them were in a city he couldn't identify, but from the level of destruction he could identify the handiwork of Sir Luciano Bradley and his personal guard, the Valkyrie Squadron. He could tell even before he saw the sequence of photos with the _Percival_, first as a blurred jumble of jutting edges in gold, purple, and grayish lavender, then the infamous Knightmare clearly seen lying upon the ruined landscape. It was identifiable even as a husk of itself with most of its limbs ripped off, armor warped and battered, torn Slash Harken lines limp upon the ground, its head a twisted metal sculpture.

Sir Bismarck felt his blood go cold at this, both for the viciousness Bradley had used during Operation Wild Hunt, and the Americans' ability to field a response against him. Little emotion was spared for the self-styled Vampire of Britannia himself, of course. Like his fellow KOR's, Waldstein despised the newest Knight of Ten with a passion, but could do nothing about it.

Bradley had originally been a knight notorious for escalating battles so he could continue to fight and kill the enemy rather than bring about a swift victory, often breaking ranks and disobeying orders in the process. When he was inevitably court martialed, His Majesty intervened, dismissing the charges and elevating him to the Knights of the Round. While Sir Luciano certainly had his use as a one-man forward unit in heavy combat zones, Waldstein still for once had questioned his liege's judgment. With the Emperor's decree that Bradley was a necessary evil – indeed a prime example of the old Age of Man he toiled to end – for shattering enemy resolve, the Knight of One's hands were tied in this matter.

It did not, however, stop him when Bradley had rubbed in his face once too often that, as a Knight of the Round, he and his actions were protected by the Emperor himself. In answer, Waldstein had grabbed the bastard by the neck and hoisted him into the air, where he'd impotently kicked and tried to break the bigger knight's grip until he nearly passed out from lack of oxygen, at which point he'd been tossed to the ground. While it did nothing to cure Sir Luciano of his attitude otherwise, he now treaded lightly around the senior-most KOR.

Bradley had reportedly behaved no differently during Wild Hunt, choosing to stay behind rather than return on schedule, laughing that he was having too much fun as he massacred defenseless people. A number of troops under his command and most of his Valkyries had stayed with him, either out of loyalty or fear that the Blood Knight would hold it against them if they left without him. Obviously they had thought they would engage their Tarnhelms after a few more minutes, the official report laying the blame on a minor equipment malfunction.

When none of them returned, it was assumed that the Americans' military had in an act of desperation flattened the combat zone with an artillery barrage or possibly even a missile strike, killing civilian, soldier, and invader alike. It had happened before, one of the few tactics effective against KMF's back when they were exclusively Britannian hardware. Now, looking between the photo of the _Percival_ in ruins and the palace's unnatural visitors, Waldstein could guess the true reason why.

Having given them enough time to look at the visual evidence against them, Diana spoke again, answering the unasked question. "He's alive, as are his underlings. But no, you won't be seeing him ever again. Blood was spilled, lives shattered, history reduced to memories. Blame and punishment must be meted out, starting with your Sir Luciano, who's currently locked away with his fellow 'Homicide Genuises'."

At this, the man in green raised his hand, his ring projecting a large rectangle of light into midair. It resolved into something like a TV screen and began displaying a video clip from a security camera, although with the green tint it looked more like it was taken using night vision. From a high angle it showed Bradley in a small cell, his hair unkempt, his arms firmly locked in a straight jacket. From the cushioned walls one could tell he was in the violent ward of a sanitarium, although the wall opposite from the camera's position was a large partition of glass, evidently bulletproof from the way he repeatedly slammed his shoulder against it without effect. On the other side were three men speaking to one another and sending Bradley the occasional glance. One was possibly an administrator with his tweed suit, clipped-on I.D. card, and academic air, while another was clearly a military officer given his uniform. The third was a mustachioed man with darkish hair tinged with grey, wearing glasses and a rumpled but clean three-piece suit. A civil servant, perhaps, although his manner spoke of a man embattled but was still resolute and standing.

The image began to change, breaking up into smaller screens which showed the Valkyries and soldiers who'd stayed with the Knight of Ten, now garbed in prison coveralls. This display was interrupted before the images could fully form, the Fifth Princess flinging a broken teacup which passed through them and nearly clipped the ring-wearer.

"You'll pay for this with your last drop of blood, you insolent Numbers!" she spat like an alley cat as she shoved her way to the front of the group, incensed by her idol's degradation. "The Britannian Empi—_AUGH_!" She came up short as she fell to the floor, clutching her leg in pain. Diana had swiftly kicked her end of the table in response to Carine's tantrum, shoving it forward enough to jab the spiteful little princess in the shin.

"You are in no position to lecture us on arrogance," the envoy responded firmly. "Because we are unlike you, you judge us a wilderness without laws or culture. You assumed we are weak and helpless, and thus you've the right to attack us without provocation, to enslave us with impunity. Your arrogance offends us, and we've responded accordingly in the only manner you seem to understand: With force."

A brief silence followed this remark, not too distinct from a death sentence in Sir Bismarck's opinion. The lull ended when one of the rui Britannia brothers – he was never entirely sure which was Castor and which was Pollux – regained his voice.

"Oh, you've frightened us, all right," his said, dripping with derision. "Someone throwing a temper tantrum and causing a little damage in the Areas happens from time to time. We're used to it."

"So if you think you can intimidate us with this little coordinated show of strength, then you're sadly mistaken," his teal-haired twin concluded.

The royals for a moment regained the look and stances of people unmoved by the Americans flaunting their power, completely ignoring the fact that the imperial capital had just been literally penetrated. This was broken by a sudden buzzing sound from someone's cellphone, evidently set to vibrate in the unlikely event of a call during the meeting. This was joined by more buzzing, followed by a full-on ringing or a digitally-rendered excerpt of music, as phones around the room went off. Quickly, the royals' aides answered the offending devices, some having received text messages, others regular phone calls. All of them blanched, looking back and forth between their lieges and the Americans.

"I reckon that'll be reports of our second wave that happened while you were all having tea and scones just now," said the silver man. "They won't be in the Areas this time. They'll be about your shipyards and Knightmare assembly lines located here in Britannia. Your military bases… here in Britannia. Sakuradite mines…"

"… here in Britannia," Lelouch concluded for him venomously.

"How war is waged distinguishes the values and goals of each side," Diana explained, taking up the discussion in a lecturer's manner. "Your attacks were meant to demoralize us, to terrorize us into submission. Assuming that the locales weren't just completely random, of course." This last bit was directed straight at Prince Schneizel before she continued. "Our response targeted your military and industrial infrastructure, affecting your ability to pursue hostilities against us _and_ maintain your position against your enemies here. All done with a minimum loss of life, I might add."

"We also wanted to show that if we felt like it we could hit you even worse than you hit us," said the ring-wearer. After a beat he then added with a smirk, "Although we nearly cancelled it after our windfall in China."

Waldstein's eyes widened. The mention of China could only possibly mean one thing, but before he could say a word, the ring-wearer had produced yet another image. He snarled even as the royals around him gasped nearly to a one.

It was the Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, either unconscious or dazed, bound to a chair with lengths of torn wiring. Despite the weak lighting, it was apparent he was underground, a functional enough room hewn from a cave. The image was taken from an angle nearly in profile, so despite His Majesty's great frame it was apparent he was tied back-to-back against another, much smaller figure. Waldstein knew it to be his older brother, the long-forgotten prince who was now the immortal Geass director V.V.

The image flickered and changed, showing more video clips as Sir Bismarck felt his world fall apart. As he feared, it was the Geass Directorate's headquarters, an underground city founded sometime ago in China. Its eternally twilit streets and buildings showed the wear and tear of a recent battle, as if the handful of battered or abandoned Knightmares were not evidence enough. American soldiers of some branch were scattered about, dressed in mostly black jumpsuits not unlike the ring-wearer. The major differences were that they wore metal facemasks and had as an emblem the horse-head profile of a knight chess piece. Also, instead of rings they were armed with military-grade pistols and rifles. Well-armed in fact as the captured city's occupants could likely attest.

Gathered into kneeling clusters with their hands on their heads were the innumerable scientists and maintenance workers that lived and worked there. Segregated into their own groups were the few soldiers that defended the secret facility, as were the "high priests," the masked and robed Directorate officials who were V.V.'s most trusted assistants. Also separate were the children, some born to the Directorate's members and servants but most orphans gathered by V.V., all experimented upon to create a diversity of Geass-users. Instead of most of them dead, blindfolded, or both as in his imagined visions of the Directorate under siege, the children simply knelt in clusters, frightened but obedient, like their elders. Unlike them, however, they were also wearing collars, solid plastic circles with built-in electronic devices of some kind. What seemed an act of cruelty by their captors to most, Waldstein surmised was a preventative measure against the children's psychic powers.

"Father," Odysseus quietly breathed as he spoke for the first time, while another royal voiced that it must be an imposter. "Is that true, Lady Diana? Have you taken our emperor hostage, or is this some trick?" he voiced with some semblance of authority, although the edge of concern for his and his siblings' sire was unmistakable.

"The word 'hostage' implies we'd be willing to return him for something," the silver man tersely replied, causing Diana to clear her throat at him.

"A search for him will either confirm or deny our claims better than words can, Your Highness," she replied, addressing one of them with an honorific for the first time. Whether it was a hint of respect for the Crown Prince or simple sympathy, one couldn't tell. "Before you decide if you really want your emperor back, though, you should know that this footage is from a secret facility in Chinese territory, specifically Inner Mongolia."

As she said that, the images changed to an aerial shot of a desert area somewhere in the world, marked only by a cave-like outcropping of rock. "Now, what do you suppose Dad was doing so far behind enemy lines?" the man in green wryly noted beside her.

"Are you suggesting His Majesty was a traitor of all things? That he'd privately cut some deal with the High Eunuchs?" Lelouch's tone and words teetered on sedition as he spoke, but still they were questions somebody had to ask.

"Nothing so simple I'm afraid," the envoy responded as she reached into her satchel again. "We've downloaded all the information from the facility's computer system before destroying the hard drives with the more… sensitive materials so the Federation's central committee and military can't use it. But I'm sure if you look around well enough here at home you'll find things that will validate what's on this." Saying so, she held up a tiny flash drive that hung by its loop from her index finger.

"We shall leave it to you, but the gist is that your emperor's been working on a secret project since he took the throne. A project he kept from all of you and killed more than once to keep secret," the ring-wielder said by way of explanation.

Waldstein could sense Lelouch's ears perk up at this, assuming the worst. Beside him, the White Prince kept his cool, curious but cautious against the invaders' accusations.

"Keeping secrets from his own children, even those he depend upon to run the Empire for him," he said with a touch of pride, "I can easily believe. But what manner of project would be so sensitive he'd risk facilitating it in an enemy country?"

"The project's name says it all: Ragnarok," Diana responded grimly. She then shrugged and added, "Although from what I know of hu—of modern religions, 'Rapture' would have been more appropriate."

"But you boys and girls do love your Norse folklore," the silver man said glibly.

Flipping the flash drive onto her palm, Diana then made an underhand toss towards them. Knowing they would not understand, Waldstein jumped in front of the princes, and snapped his hands closed upon… the flash drive's cap. He looked up and saw the flash drive, its USB plug now visible, again dangling from her finger.

"Give me that, you interfering harlot!" he began to shriek, enraged at these infidels profaning all His Majesty had worked for.

"Sir Bismarck!" the White Prince shouted over him. "Is there something we should know about?" He sounded like a teacher calling out a student caught passing notes in class, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Waldstein gripped his fist so hard he crushed the cap almost to powder before he finally responded, speaking respectfully. "Your Highness, whatever His Majesty's activities, if he deemed them too sensitive for even yourself, we must respect that it is a matter of the gravest imperial security. As such, I must insist upon confiscating documents which may concern said activities," he jabbed a finger at the flash drive as he said so, "in the Emperor's absence."

The Chancellor took this in with an unemotional, impartial stance as always, but even before he spoke the Knight of One knew he was having none of it. "On the contrary, good Sir Bismarck, it is due to the matter of imperial security, upon which questions have now arisen regarding His Majesty, that sensitive documents must be obtained and studied by those a bit further down the ziggurat, albeit under tight security. And as for the matter of the Emperor's say-so" – he shrugged apologetically at this – "you'll have to make do with the decisions of the Regent."

"Regent?" The word was muttered about quietly and repeatedly around the room, even by the obvious recipient of such a title. "Brother, we cannot say for certain that Father has been… incapacitated. Aren't you being hasty?"

"I agree with Schneizel," Lelouch said to Odysseus, walking around the coffee table, slowly but purposefully to the American envoy. "Given the present state of affairs, we have valid reason to believe Father is no longer able to fulfill his duties as lord of the realm… nor that it would be appropriate for him to do so. As such, protocol demands that you now must shoulder that responsibility for the foreseeable future, Odysseus." As he stopped before Diana, he smiled as he added with faint sarcasm, "And if it turns out we're wrong, I'm sure His Majesty will accept an apology."

He moved to reach up and grab the flash drive from her, but instead made eye contact with the statuesque woman. There was pause as a brief battle of wills passed between them, before Lelouch offered his hand palm up, into which she placed the device. He flipped it over in his hand, eyeing it curiously, as he walked away, only to nearly bump into Earl Maldini, who repeated his action of holding his hand out, although with far more insistence in his action. Clearly, even as a viceroy to an important area, he fell outside the tight circle of government officials that Schneizel would grant security clearance to inspect the so-called Ragnarok files. With an irritated look, the Black Prince smacked it down in Kanon's hand before turning away in annoyance.

"Your Highness," Sir Bismarck said quietly, trying a new tactic. "I need you to trust in me as you would your…"

_Oh, who am I kidding? That would _never_ work_. He'd nearly said "your father", but he knew for certain that the Emperor only kept Schneizel around for his administrative abilities, and that the White Prince would be a fool not to know this. Changing tact, Waldstein began again, deciding to be honest if not forthcoming.

"I can say with utter sincerity that the future of Britannia is tied up in Ragnarok. Its achievement would mean no one need fear of violence from our enemies or civil war among future generations of the imperial family. But few would understand or even accept the means required to achieve that end. With that, and the exotic… materials the program requires, a handhold in territories not yet under our control is a necessity."

"And I'm sure a full inquiry will show just that, Sir Bismarck," Prince Schneizel replied smiling. Sir Bismarck looked to protest, but at that the Chancellor snapped his fingers. The remaining guards still on their feet, knowing which side of their bread was buttered, stood to attention, their remaining arms at their sides, lest the Knight of One try anything. With this, he had nothing left to do but gnash his teeth as a lifetime's work teetered on the brink.

"Oh, piss on this Viking Doomsday nonsense," Carine suddenly spoke up, still nursing her bruised leg from where she sat on the floor. "What about them? We can't just let them get away with this!"

She'd referred to the Americans, who had quietly slipped back to the hole they'd made during the political drama between knight and prince.

"She has a point, Madame Ambassador." To his surprise, it was Lelouch agreeing with the girl who'd bedeviled his darling sister no end. Standing at the lead before the invaders, he held his hands up empty to signify he did not seek further violence. "Granted, it would appear that we've attacked your territories… although I wonder how I missed _that_ in the news. An attacked man has the inherent right to defend himself, which I can attest you've done so," he said with a hint of bitterness. "But we seem to have hit a point where we can negotiate a peace accord, which means prisoners of war may be released from confinement, especially those who were noncombatants."

"Oh, you mean like your… Major Croomy?" the ring-wearer asked after a brief pause, apparently to remember the name.

Watching this, Bismarck could have sworn that the prince had nearly flinched just as the invader named one of their prisoners. _Or did I imagine that?_ he wondered.

"As good an example as any," the prince responded crisply, a hint of pained restraint in his voice as he glared at the man. "I imagine there are others, of course. Such as those people who worked in the Chinese facility. We'll need them to substantiate your claims against His Majesty. Or to dismiss them," he added.

The man with the atom emblem then spoke up. "Let's say we hand them over to you. Who do we get in return? What POW's do you have to offer?" There was a pause before he continued accusingly. "None, because you didn't take prisoners! So maybe we'll hold onto the ones we have and call it compensation. Or maybe we'll dump them on your front lawn tomorrow just so you don't get the wrong idea about us. It's not our say. We're just the messengers."

Several eyes darted to Diana. "You said you're a princess! Isn't this your choice?" someone yelled at her.

"I'm a princess of Themyscira, which was not touched by your attacks, so at best that puts me in a position to serve as a third party and negotiate, if called on to do so."

With this the two men touched hidden studs on their belt-devices, each opening with a snap a hidden panel that concealed a large yellow button which lit up when pushed. Many of the royals, excluding Lelouch, were startled as both were suddenly surrounded by glowing images of themselves before vanishing in a flash of light. Prince Schneizel, Kanon, and Sir Bismarck, however, viewed the display stoically as the final bit of evidence that the Tarnhelm Project and Operation Wild Hunt had come around to bite them.

Princess Diana remained, however, evidently to give them one last piece of her mind. "Why _did_ you attack us? You struck at almost anything wherever you appeared, and you didn't stray from population centers – hospitals, schools, neighborhoods. Places with no military importance, just civilians. Normal people just going about their lives, who were of no threat to you, who didn't even know you existed. You were in no danger from us, and yet…" She stopped here, her expression showing a combination of anger, pain, and confusion.

"It's sur… vival of… th-the fittest. The law of… Darwin."

The words were low and almost slurred, but still could be heard. Sir Bismarck like many others took his eye off Diana to where Cornelia had lain. Sure enough, the Second Princess had awakened and despite her sister's quiet protests was attempting to wrestle herself into a sitting position. She'd achieved at least supporting herself on her right elbow as she glared at the envoy with unfocused eyes.

"We compete, we fight, we devour," she continued, warming to the subject, "gaining strength from those we conquer. It is how we survive, and how we grow strong."

This last part barely made its way out before a coughing fit she fought to control, shoving her sister's hand away when offered more water. She then continued, evidently embarrassed by her display.

"Our nations are nearly the same age. Both started out with the same pitiful collection of colonies. Today, we control a third of the world. You? You don't even own a full half of your own continent. We wield an army that trembles the earth with its footsteps as our enemies fall beneath our banner. You wield influence, inviting your enemies within your borders to make compromises." A smile appeared on her face that was without a hint of joy, as she nodded her head at the room whose luxury was still evident. "This is the result of our drive and ruthlessness – _Evolution_!" She then glanced at the photographs of the destroyed city. "And this… is the result of your mercy and generosity. You can't argue with results, _American_," she finished, spitting out the name.

Diana had crossed her arms underneath her breasts as the battered Goddess of the Battlefield spoke, a reflective pose as she silently took in every word. This silence continued for a moment after Cornelia was done talking, many thinking she'd been able to bypass the freakish war-maiden's armor to cut her with words. That was before she began her response.

"No, I cannot argue with results… but then neither can you. You're alive, Princess Cornelia. We tracked you down and struck, dragging you back to the land you attacked. And what did we do? Did we throw your broken body to the families of the soldiers you killed, to have their way with as they pleased? No. We bandaged your injuries, the very injuries we gave you while in pursuit. And now, you're back home with your sister."

She gestured at Euphemia, the very girl who'd threatened her just a few minutes ago. "A young woman who values your life more than her own. A young woman who has never and I doubt _will_ ever be of the service your empire demands. A woman your own words dismiss as useless in your society."

At the first reference to her sister, Cornelia had tried to reposition herself to serve as a shield for Euphemia. Now, she just narrowed her eyes as her words and justifications were thrown back in her face.

"I was… an outsider when I first came to your nation's counterpart, Princess Cornelia, a type of person they'd never laid eyes upon. They had no reason to trust me, and indeed there were those who did not. Others, however, welcomed me, and treated me as an honored guest until I too could claim to be at home. Many others can say the same, others who were foreigners in a foreign land, and became a part of the community, not as servants or… a resource, but fellow neighbors. And now we stand together alongside those who welcomed us, in this their time of darkness and need."

She bent over slightly, as if putting her face in Cornelia's own from across the room. "And _that_, Your Highness," she corrected her pugnaciously, "is the result of our mercy and generosity: Justice."

With that she flipped open the panel of her belt-device, her finger resting on the button as she faced Schneizel, Lelouch, and the remaining royals, nobles, and guards that formed her audience. "Your culture extols evolution. All well and good, but now you're the dominant species, at the top of the food chain. There's nowhere else left to go up… except in here," she said, pointing to her head.

"Our countries are at war. We sampled your power, your cruelty, and now you've sampled our strength and our resolve. The next move is yours, Britannia. How you use it will show how well you've truly evolved. Will you conduct yourselves like human beings, will you reason and approach us as the same? Or will you continue to emulate animals, and be treated as such?"

With that final declaration, she vanished in a burst of afterimages and light.

Many present, even Schneizel, remained still as the envoy's final words echoed in their minds. Distantly, Sir Bismarck could hear someone run out the door and throw up somewhere down the hallway.

In front of him, Lelouch slowly walked over to the hole in the floor. Looking down into its depths, he kicked a piece of shattered statuary over the side, then stood patiently waiting for the echo of its impact from far below. Waldstein needn't guess how far down the hole went; the capture of the Geass Directorate and the manner in which the Americans came to the siblings' meeting told him it reached the "Door of Twilight" – as His Majesty and Director V.V. liked to call it – underneath the palace.

After hearing a faint whisper of an echo, Lelouch turned back to his siblings. From his stance, it was apparent to Sir Bismarck that his hands and leg were still and calm again, and that his face was wholly composed. In fact, there seemed to be a new strength in his eyes.

Those same eyes looked over the gathered crowd and caught the eye of Guinevere, who'd fallen silent and stayed that way since the first tremors. He gestured theatrically like a game show's prize-display girl to where they'd first seen the Americans as they emerged from the giant drill.

"'Outlandish,' dear sister," the Black Prince proclaimed with a smile. It was more of a sneer, but all the same… In fact, it was the first time he'd smiled since this whole ordeal began.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion _is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner. _

_Author's Notes: As you can tell by Lelouch's presence here and bits of back story dropped, I'm not going by events of the TV series for this crossover. Rather I made an AU wherein he's a prince again and became Area 11's viceroy. It's a popular idea, and I admit my version is based upon several popular fanfics that utilize it - "Dauntless" by Allora Gale, "Lelouch of Britannia" by Cal Reflector, "Lelouch of the Revolution" by Lilyflower1987, etc. It's not my intention to plagiarize those storylines; this is all just a setup for the conflict that will rise out of the crossover rather than an unauthorized copy or continuation of these series and their particular storylines. Your mileage may vary, of course. _

_I used Lelouch-as-prince as that seemed to me more likely to put him on the front lines, whereas the canon Lelouch-as-Zero would make a spectator out of him or a sideline character a la NIGHTMARE OF NUNNALLY. Not that "Zero/Justice League" couldn't be a source of material, but the Justice League would view the Black Knights for much the same reasons as given later on regarding resistance movements with a level of political authenticity vs. outright terrorists, which would effectively marginalize them if not outright paint them as bad guys. Again, YMMV. _


	4. Chapter Three

**Knights of Justice?**

**Chapter 3: "The Fraud Prince"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**The Tokyo Concession **

**Holy Empire of Britannia, Area 11 (formerly Japan)**

**The Day of the Retaliation **

**(or, Operation Wild Hunt plus one month, one week, two days) **

Lelouch smiled, and for once there was the hint of mirth there. He quite often felt pleased with himself, but usually this was simple awareness that he had done something right rather than feeling happy. Happiness was an ephemeral feeling, but the occasional bout of contentment needed a reflective gesture.

Today, however, there was an undefined feeling of weight removed from his shoulders that put him in a jaunty state of mind. Why, he could even look up at the viceroy's palace – currently _his_ palace – without fantasizing it in flaming ruins for once.

That feeling had always passed through him whenever he looked at the edifice stabbing up from the skyline of Tokyo. First it had been a burning pain as a child prince watched the gem of Japan rebuilt to its new masters' standards, and later a dull sting as a student flittered about from schoolwork to chess game (or vise versa). Taking up residence there hadn't changed that, not even when Clovis's ignoble last stand had handed him the seat of colonial power.

After six long years without any of _them_ looking down at him or being underfoot, Lelouch's quiet life had ended under the most ignominious of circumstances. It had started innocently enough, another day with him playing another chess game with another nobleman for another set of high stakes. He was about to put the count in check when God, life, the universe, or something had done just that to him. With no warning whatsoever, Lelouch's prima donna of a half-brother suddenly popped into the parlor to surprise that same visiting noble with well-wishes, a little bird having told him of an engagement to a duke's grand-daughter.

"_It was all just a rumor?!_" Lelouch had shrieked when he learned that little nugget of joy much later.

For that bit of idle gossip, he'd been found and railroaded back into the soap-opera-on-amphetamines reality that was the royal family. Leaving behind Milly and the others as his life at Ashford Academy was abandoned. His blood-curdling "reunion" with his father. Boot camp (however abridged) followed by officer's school. Contributing to the warfare and death, which had very nearly included his own, in Africa. Watching a new generation of slaves be freshly broken to the Empire's will. The burning of bridges between himself and Cornelia, with Euphemia caught in the middle. Hours of boredom and moments of mind-numbing fear as he was press ganged to handle the insurgents in Area 11. Even the few bright spots – his joy as he was unexpectedly reunited with Kururugi Suzaku, his vengeance as he thwarted his predecessor's forces with a handful of unskilled freedom fighters – hadn't assuaged the part of Lelouch's mind which reminded him day-in and day-out that, instead of sitting there like a bump on a log, he really should have run out the door while Clovis had been busy glad-handing the confused popinjay.

But that was all in the past now, and should be left there. The future was coming, and it looked like after hacking and slashing through jungle forever, he'd finally come to a clear pathway. It gave him the almost alien feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything would turn out all right in the end.

_And I have all the tools I need to make it happen. _

He had in his pocket Suzaku, someone who with the right spin the Japanese could gather around as a figurehead. He had the authority of oversight and therefore influence over Schneizel's Camelot program. Laws he'd passed to give the Honorary Britannian system some teeth had been run through, along with new policies regarding the unindoctrinated Japanese. That and his victories over the more radical terrorist groups had left the resistance spinning its wheels as it tried to fathom the new viceroy. All of that, plus some backroom deals, reliable intel, and good old-fashioned common sense, and he was certain he'd soon have the Kyoto Houses under his secret domain along with the J.L.F. (minus a rogue faction or two, of course). To top it all off, he had an idea for a nice, nasty prank – er, uh, _plot_ in mind for Lord Stadtfeld's daughter.

The icing on the cake was that, rather than returning from Pendragon, it looked like Cornelia was being reassigned to Area 18 as its permanent governor, her usual insistence on being at the forefront of the Empire's trouble spots falling on deaf ears for once. Considering how that area was built from the Middle Eastern Federation that had fallen due to _his_ actions, the assignment even to such a large, rich land must have been galling for her.

_Oh, well. She's within spitting distance of the El Alamein region, almost sure to become the next big front when things between the Empire and the E.U. heat up again. That should be enough to satisfy her, _he thought with just a touch of sorrow, not comfortable with her being in an international trouble spot.

He immediately quashed that notion, reminding himself how quickly Cornelia had proven a thorn in his side. First, she'd mother-henned him in a pathetic attempt to honor her former mentor and his late mother, Lady Marianne. Then she'd micromanaged him when the Black Prince was assigned as part of the expeditionary forces in Africa. It had mixed like oil and water as Lelouch, determined to at least do things his way if he had to live by His Majesty's command yet again, was completely insubordinate to the elder princess's thoughts, opinions, even her direct orders.

This occurred both privately and professionally. A series of mishaps with starry-eyed girls, some staged while others were actual run-ins, had made it seem Lelouch was (de)evolving into a consummate womanizer. Meanwhile in the field, instead of hanging back to play mop up, he'd led those under his command into battle, his use of strength _and_ strategy turning his high-risk moves into victories with little to no casualties, a far cry from the series of meager advances occurring most elsewhere. Whether this made Cornelia feel more ignored or upstaged it was difficult to tell. What was certain was the undercurrent of rivalry now between them, the same as with too many other royal siblings.

Matters were compounded after Shinjuku, when the so-called Goddess of the Battlefield was sent to Area 11, not to take over as Clovis's successor, but to share in the responsibility with her surviving younger brother. She was appointed commander of all military services in the area while Lelouch continued managing all civilian authority as the official Sub-Viceroy, leaving the actual chair of colonial governor empty. In essence, they were co-viceroys with separate but equal powers and responsibilities; as such, they _had_ to work together and with their recent history, it had been pulling teeth to reach an agreement on any topic.

Having Cornelia around his neck like an albatross had been a wholly depressing time for Lelouch. It had been bad enough when, through luck more than skill, he realized Schneizel had taken an interest in his frequent visits to the old gang at Ashford Academy. Schneizel's curiosity he'd been able to satisfy by introducing Nina to one of Camelot's lead engineers, Major Cecile Croomy, who took it at face value Lelouch's interest in Nina's atomic energy equations. Originally formulated by her grandfather, Nina had been doggedly working to improve upon them with modern scientific knowledge, and luckily enough for Lelouch had reached a stage where she wanted some professional evaluation before publishing. With her background in solid-state energy research and her (normally) easy-going personality, Croomy had been tailor-made for the ruse.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up at the memory. As expected, Croomy had shared Nina's work with project leader Lloyd Asplund, who in turn mentioned it to Prince Schneizel, thus in a roundabout way dissuading the White Prince that his long-missing brother had been doing anything but helping out a childhood colleague's career. Unexpectedly, however, the Chancellor had then recruited Nina for some special project of his. She'd been gone for over four months, had sporadically sent letters and postcards that once or twice had a sentence or a word blacked out by a censor, and had said nothing about her work when she returned.

Uncharacteristically, she carried herself as if she knew a big secret she was bursting to share with everyone. In fact, there had been one moment where Nina let down her guard and mentioned a problem with something called the decoherence factor, but had immediately clammed up when she realized what she'd said. She'd been sworn to secrecy, which Lelouch decided to respect for the moment so as to keep his brother's prying eyes at bay, but the whole thing hadn't set well with him. Whatever it was, it was big and had met with success, for not only had Nina been more-than-generously paid, but her family was now on the list for those recommended for a peerage in the near future.

He paused, smiling at a thought that occurred to him. _"Countess Nina". Heh. Rivalz should have made a play for her while he had the chance_. His school chum had mooned nonstop over the student council's president since he'd known him, when he should have concentrated on the easily more approachable little physics aficionado. _And now it would simply look suspicious_, he added, shaking his head at his friend's poor luck.

Returning to the topic at hand, he pursed his lips in annoyance. The only other thing he'd gleaned about Nina's time away was when she admitted that she had to work with a Number – _Nina-ese for an Honorary Britannian_, he'd translated at the time – from Area 3 also working for Schneizel, which had taught her to appreciate how Lelouch had learned to get along with Suzaku. A backhanded compliment to Lelouch's liberal racial views, but given how panic-stricken Nina could be around non-Britannians, which nearly got herself and the other hostages killed back at Lake Kawaguchi, one took what one could get.

Cornelia, however, had been an entirely different matter. What had begun as a strained acceptance of Lelouch retaining ties with the déclassé institute as he eased back into a proper imperial lifestyle soon turned into mistrust. First it was belief that Lelouch was secretly in a relationship with the Ashford heiress Milly, a fallen noble like the rest of her family but still not totally written off by the royal court as reflected by her parents' repeat attempts to marry her into polite society. Then came the more turgid accusations that he'd made the female student body of the school his private garden for sewing his wild oats, with the Student Council specifically as his harem. _"Isn't that sass-mouthed little chit of yours enough, Lelouch?"_ she unloaded at him when she'd come up with that particular accusation.

The thought of this caused the Black Prince to frown as his stomach rolled a bit. _I never could tell if she was counting Rivalz or not. Maybe it's best I don't know. _

There'd been nothing he could think of to do that could allay Cornelia's suspicions. As it was, any talk between them outside meetings often became shouting matches, which would have culminated in Cornelia doing an under-the-table investigation of the campus should she confront him over his visits there. Well, that couldn't happen, so between that and the situation with Schneizel, Lelouch had made the hard decision to cut off his visits to Ashford Academy. He'd dropped in just long enough to notify them of his decision, and later when escorting Nina to and from the airport for Schneizel's project. Otherwise, his only contact for months now had been letters and little pick-me-up gifts he'd surreptitiously sent.

He mused on what he could still be worried about. _Nina's returned, and it sounds like Schneizel has another science project to keep his attention. I'm officially viceroy now that Cornelia's been all but banished to Gibraltar. And with her out of the way, I've no one but a loose conglomeration of moderately-influential nobles to stand in my way of how I run Area 11 or how I behave in my private life. Hmmm…_

He hummed thoughtfully to himself, unconsciously drumming his fingers on his knee, crossed over and resting upon the other, as he sat back in his limousine.

"A problem, Your Highness?" Margrave Gottwald asked beside him.

"No, Sir Jeremiah," he responded, realizing his knight had spoken. "Just ruminating on how to spend my free time. I think I'll see what work has piled up since we were away, and let that decide for me," he added.

"It shouldn't be too great, m'lord. The inspection tour of the area's military bases was supposed to take all week." As he said so, Jeremiah glanced out the window as the limo pulled up to the palace's main entrance.

"We're only returning early because they were uniformly a disgrace. The commanding officers for all Area 11 outposts have a month's time to turn things around, or else I'm sacking all of them," Lelouch rejoined peevishly. Really, scuttlebutt about his nights of wine, women, and song had gotten out of hand. Without Cornelia around, the base commanders thought they could return to their lackadaisical Clovis-era status.

Worst of all was Kyushu, which could fall with just one good push. The noble in charge locally, Calares, had actually seen fit to argue with him, laughing at him when he proposed the possibility of a Chinese invasion. Jeremiah in turn had "persuaded" him that His Highness' concern was quite serious as was Calares' duty in seeing that the possibility did not become a probability.

Lelouch acknowledged the salute from the duty officer that held the door open for him as he vacated the limo and made way straight for the elevator. The prospect of making a visit after so long gave wings to his feet, the Black Prince almost bouncing on his heels during the long ride up to his office. As he rounded the corner, his nervous energy quickly switched to anxious.

It was noon, lunchtime for most, so the office was operating under a skeleton crew, which was now lying on the floor. The only exception was Wilhelmina O'Connor, the grande dame secretary he'd brought in to whip Clovis' secretarial pool – _Now _that_ was a private harem_, he'd thought – into shape. "Ms. Minnie's" scarecrow-like frame was now slumped over her desk, face pressed against the keys of her antique typewriter. Nearby her on the floor was Major Nu, the former Purist having collapsed within arm's reach of a discreetly-installed alarm switch on the wall.

Lelouch immediately backed up at the sight, Jeremiah doing the same as he slapped a handkerchief – thankfully newly laundered – over his master's mouth and nose. They relaxed momentarily as they both saw the slight movements as the apparent bodies continued breathing, punctuated by the occasional cough or snore. Freeing himself from his knight's protective grasp, Lelouch noted that he still felt normal and didn't detect anything in the air. Clearly, whatever gas had been used dispelled quickly.

_Gas… used against Britannia_, he thought. It gave him a creeping sense of déjà vu and—

The sounds of activity suddenly came from behind the doors of his inner office. Turning to Jeremiah, the prince gave orders to him using the hand-signal system he developed years before while at the Kururugi Shrine, or rather the expurgated version that Suzaku had finally learned. _Maybe it is _too_ complicated_, he'd thought when Lord Gottwald encountered the same problems memorizing it.

Silently cocking his sidearm, Jeremiah edged up to the doors alongside him as the sounds of someone at work continued from within. After a silent countdown, they threw the doors open, Jeremiah kneeling into a firing position as Lelouch activated his Geass.

Within his field of vision, the Black Prince could see his self-proclaimed partner C.C. lying on the floor by the office's small sitting area, where she'd apparently been enjoying another in her endless diet of pizzas. She was now encircled thrice with a series of bolos, and gagged with a rolled-up slice jammed into her mouth. Seeing him, she began to thrash on the floor and grunt angrily, a far cry from her usual attitude which vacillated from indifference to sarcasm. Between the rope-burns caused by struggling against her bonds, and the dollops of sauce dripping from the pizza onto herself, she'd picked a bad day to finally wear the uniform he'd requisitioned for her.

Lelouch's concentration was on the invader in his office, though. It was not whom he'd expected, but rather a teenaged boy of moderate height with a mop of black hair and ears that stuck out just a bit. He seemed to be about Nunnally's age, as he retained a level of baby fat in his face, a sharp contrast to his arms which were easily as lean and wiry as Suzaku's. His skin tone was fair and inferred Anglo-Saxon descent, although that didn't entirely rule out that he could be half-Japanese like Kallen given his present activities.

His face and his arms, by the way, were the only portion of him uncovered, and even then he had on a domino mask that obscured his eyes and black gloves with nearly elbow-length gauntlets. The remainder of the intruder's clothes that he could see included a black cape worn over a red jerkin woven of some sturdy-looking material and clasped tight with buckles. Cinched tight about his waist was a belt, canary yellow and covered in pouches not unlike those of the gear belts worn by soldiers only more compact. Certainly not a typical uniform of the J.L.F. or other insurgent groups he was familiar with.

Another interesting bit about his wardrobe was the backs of his gauntlets, which were embedded with electronic devices. One had plugged into it a USB cable, evidently connected to Lelouch's personal computer, and was emitting a tiny holographic image of a monitor screen. It appeared backwards to Lelouch but it was obvious the boy had been in the process of hacking his hard drive. Now, however, he was frozen in place, eyes locked with Lelouch, his other hand stalled in the process of reaching for a pouch on his belt.

By his feet, C.C. continued to squirm about, so he reluctantly gestured at Jeremiah to untie her. Seeing that the invader was safely in his master's hypnotic grasp, the knight put away his pistol and set about cutting the witch's bounds with a pocketknife.

"**Who are you, and what are you doing here?**" the Black Prince asked the intruder, speaking loud and clear. His basic actions were quite obvious, but such a question often yielded more specific details on the other person's intentions.

Surprisingly, there was a brief pause, as the boy's jaw quivered before finally opening. "I… I ammm call-called R-Robin," he said in the expected monotone, albeit haltingly.

Mildly impressed, the prince still smirked to himself. _Whoever this Robin is, he isn't strong enough to resist the power of my Geass. Not for long anyway._ He glanced at the boy's mask and briefly wondered how the eyeholes achieved their opaque effect. _Whatever manner of lenses they use, they don't provide any protection, either. _

The boy-burglar continued, the hesitancy in his words vanishing as he talked. "I came here to hack your systems, to learn more about your security and defense procedures, and to copy any files that may be of interest."

Lelouch nodded at this, expecting as much. He also silently congratulated himself on keeping any ideas and pertinent details for plans that would result in an execution, namely his, solely on a well-hidden memory stick. He was a tiny bit distracted as C.C. hadn't calmed at all, still grunting at him as Jeremiah did his best, starting with her bound ankles and working up from there. Ignoring her, he listened as the lad continued talking, expectantly waiting for the next details of his confession.

"Now I've been hypnotized into telling you all this," he said as he unexpectedly took the order to report on what he's doing quite literally, "distracting you while my partner comes up with a plan."

"**Partner?**" Lelouch said in surprise.

"Partner?" repeated Jeremiah, having just completed cutting the last of the bolo cords holding C.C.

Robin simply pointed down beside him with his free hand, just as someone jumped up from behind the desk.

"PARTNER!"

Lelouch caught only a glimpse of red hair, dark goggles, and a yellow shirt before he was swat aside by a wind tunnel erupting from nowhere. Astonished, he looked up from the floor at the second intruder, a boy roughly his own age this time, who spun his arms so rapidly they formed a blurry cone of yellow streaks. Fantastically, this also produced gale force winds, buffeting C.C. and Gottwald with papers that had been lying atop Lelouch's desk.

The winds also caught the remainder of C.C.'s pizza, which rocketed off the coffee table and into poor Jeremiah's face. This deluge flung his knight helplessly backwards while Lelouch's presupposing accomplice flattened herself on the floor, lying there as the blast of air continued. Not surprisingly, she used this time to eat the slice she'd been gagged with.

Looking down, the second intruder noticed Lelouch as he was getting to his feet outside of the "blast zone," wrestling his own sidearm from its holster. Putting an end to his cyclone trick, the lad in yellow then pulled out Lelouch's PC, plopped it on the desktop, and yanked out the USB and other cables from the back with a speed-enhanced tug. With speed that made Suzaku look like a somnambulist, he then ran around the desk, pushing Lelouch's swivel chair along with him. He zipped up to Lelouch from behind with it, knocking him onto the seat before tying him into place using the freed cables. He then did most horrible thing imaginable at that moment.

"Round and round he goes," the living bolt of lightning cried mockingly as the swivel chair spun around like a demented top. "Where he stops… they'll probably have to replace the carpet!"

_I will not scream I will not scream I will not scream I will not scream_, Lelouch repeated over and over in his head like a mantra even as the g-forces tugged at the flesh of his face, his heart pounded like a jackhammer in his chest, and the world around him became a massive blur. _I will not_—

"AAAAAAHHHH!"

The yellow bastard had let go of where he'd jammed his foot against the wheels like an airplane chock, allowing the chair and its unwilling occupant to go zinging around the room like a satanic teacup ride. He couldn't tell where he was going since he was still spinning, but got a sense that he was heading towards a nearby wall fortified with a bookcase. A mass, white with streaks of lime-green, flew at him just as he made the collision.

The Black Prince blinked as the world reluctantly resolved itself into an ever-wavy state. He was lying on his side where the chair had fallen after impact, covered with books that had been knocked off the shelves. Even though the world lurched from side-to-side, he could plainly see the two intruders were still there with the first one, Robin, coming down from his Geass-spell, so there was still a chance of turning this situation around.

The cables hadn't been properly knotted, so he was able to pull his hands free from the armrests, then got to work on loosening the cables around his chest. Despite his abrupt halt, Lelouch was still conscious, although he was definitely feeling vertigo as he tried to get back up.

As he did so, he saw where C.C. had used herself as a cushion, taking the brunt of impact where he'd crashed. Mashed between the bookcase and the chair, she had received a number of broken bones, possibly along with fatal internal injures had she'd been a normal human being. Pulling the chair out, Lelouch let C.C. flop onto the floor, where she fidgeted a little bit as her body started realigning itself, her bones audibly knitting. An eyelid quivered open long enough to shoot him a reproachful look.

"I kept trying to tell you, 'There's _two_ of them,'" she mumbled crossly before laying her head back on the carpeted floor, letting her body do the rest. Assured that she was on the mend as always, Lelouch returned to the threat at hand, stumbling in the general direction of his desk.

He needn't have bothered though. Jeremiah, his face still smeared with marina sauce, had returned to the office brandishing a sword while also throwing his knife expertly at the red-breasted burglar's face with what should have been pinpoint accuracy. Now of his own mind again, Robin whipped out a black baton – _An eskrima stick_, Lelouch thought, recalling the weapons Suzaku had once trained with – from his belt in response, swatting the projectile out of the air as easily as a pro tennis player. He then brandished it and its twin at the oncoming knight, challenging him with a short bark of a laugh.

The goggled youth in yellow, however, nudged his partner with his foot as he shouldered Lelouch's computer tower. "You can play with your new dance partner another day. We got what we came for!"

Nodding in agreement, the masked boy then reached for his belt again and there was an audible click. For a moment, Lelouch thought it was another enhanced movement trick as they were then surrounded by a series of flickering afterimages of themselves, only this time the images were glowing outlines of themselves as they continued to stand still. The images then collapsed back upon the intruders, resulting in a flash of light that covered their escape. _Or perhaps that _was_ their escape_, Lelouch considered. Jeremiah, meanwhile, was left to swing his blade impotently through empty space and almost collided with the desk.

Without even knowing he'd moved, Lelouch had crossed the room on unsteady feet, pistol in his shaking hand, as this happened before him. Leaning on a table backed against one of the couches, he stared where the two teenagers had been just a moment ago, his knight looking at him with an expression that was just as helpless as he felt. A list of actions that needed to be taken as a matter of course, along with the likely consequences of allowing his office to be ransacked, all whirled through his head, adding to the vertigo he still felt. Nevertheless, he started to issue orders.

"Jeremiah, we need to – *urp*"

And that was as far as he got. A long, shallow desk drawer in the table wasn't much, but beggars can't be choosers.

"Hhrrrrrraaaaaaaccckkk!"

He stood there, doubled over as he felt dry heaves ripple along his abdomen for another minute or two. Satisfied that it was over, he then spat the residue out of his mouth into the irretrievably stained bit of furniture, then closed the drawer, stood straight up, nodded to his knight that he was okay now, and collapsed to the floor.

**/ * CG * /**

Lelouch woke up a few hours later in a darkened room with night falling fast as the lack of illumination through the windows attested. He could have been taken to his quarters and treated in his bed there, as he had only minor bruises and had thrown up due to nausea rather than a concussion. But the viceroy's palace had been all too easily penetrated, and the attack on him was being treated as an assassination attempt, necessitating he be moved to the medical wing where doctors, medicine, and surgical equipment were on hand. He garnered all this from the slight antiseptic smell in the air and the hospital bed he lay on which, despite being of high-quality suitable for royalty, still felt like a fold-out sofa only narrower.

Naturally, the place was on high alert, and he was surrounded by soldiers guarding his life from further attempts. He could hear Sutherlands on patrol right outside his window, along with the murmur of troops filling the hallways outside the doorway, which would be flanked by at least two royal guards. Even the medical staff had been "partnered up" with experienced field medics to double-check every little thing they did in case a traitor was in their midst.

And naturally, this had done nothing to prevent C.C. from getting in. The immortal witch was lounging on the couch reserved for guests during visiting hours, channel-surfing the big screen TV mounted on a bureau in front of him. He hadn't said a word, but still she'd known he was awake now.

"Primetime TV in Japan was always uniformly poor," she commented in her natural detached drone. "One thing I hoped Britannia's conquest would change was the quality of programming. No such luck."

After a beat, she spoke again, her voice now carrying a serious edge. "You owe me a new pizza."

He glared at her sourly as he used the bed's tiny control to shift the mattress into a sitting position. As he did so, his eyes adjusted to the muted darkness.

"Is that a candy striper's uniform?"

"Uh-huh," she said absently.

"Where did you find that?" Her choice of costume piqued his interest more than how she'd gotten past his security. While Jeremiah didn't fully trust her and would use the opportunity to keep her at arm's length from his liege, at this point Lelouch just naturally expected her to go wherever she pleased. _Sometimes I think she must have let Clovis catch her_.

"The same place I inexplicably get stuff I happen to need."

Lelouch frowned at her evading the question, but then got an idea. Smirking, he asked, "Why don't you start getting your pizzas there, too?"

"Now you're just being ridiculous."

He sighed, accepting momentary defeat on the subject matter. The thought occurred that she'd gotten that uniform to replace the one ruined back during the fight in his office, which reminded him. It was something he realized when he'd gotten loose from his chair but hadn't mentioned at the time.

"You needn't have tried to tackle me. My chair had flung itself back first into the bookshelves, so I probably would only have been banged up a bit more than I am now." His voice then took on a scolding quality. "In fact, your 'sacrifice' could have easily adjusted its flight so I went _head_ first into something and really been hurt."

For the first time, she turned away from the TV and locked eyes with his, taking into consideration what was, for Lelouch, a show of gratitude for saving his life, as well as concern for her. Standing up, she smoothed out the creases in her too-short uniform before taking up a chair beside his bed.

"Would you like a sponge bath?" she asked, nodding her head towards the nearby bathroom.

The hint of a coquettish lilt in her voice could have entirely been his imagination. Still, the Black Prince felt his cheeks redden mildly. Shooting her an annoyed look to cover up for the rather obvious tell, he turned his attention to the TV, which now showed Diethard Reid outlining the day's news roundup.

Back at Narita, they had shared a moment of… "near-closeness" was probably the best way to describe it… which neither of them had mentioned since. It's not that C.C. wasn't pretty and shapely, and God knows his first sight of her, strapped tightly into security garb meant for prisoners in transit, had more than once danced across his mind's eye at night. Had he been a normal teenaged boy or the skirt-chaser he pretended to be, he might have considered her attitude a challenge and pursued her. But knowing her as he did, and the flashes of memory from her past he'd accidentally received once, she'd become too remote and strange a being for him to even consider a physical fling with, much less an ongoing relationship.

_No, really_, he'd told himself more than once.

And so Lelouch focused on his would-be press agent as he expounded on the top stories happening in Area 11. It certainly got him back on track with his responsibilities, as the lead story was about collapses within all major Sakuradite mines. The analytical part of his mind argued such an event was a godsend, as procuring the necessary equipment and manpower to get the mines operating again in double-time would likely leave the N.A.C. beholden to him, not bad given his suspicions of them. The rest of him, however, questioned the chance of such a disaster and the invasion of his office occurring on the same day.

His suspicion seemed founded as Reid continued, reporting that the mines all collapsed within minutes of each other. Furthermore, "errors" in the mines' safety systems had falsely reported fires, gas leaks, or other emergencies, resulting in the mines being evacuated by the time each cave-in happened. The final nail was two instances where Eleven workers had been left behind, having simply been overlooked or outright abandoned by their foremen. In both cases, a search-and-rescue team later found them unconscious, a little banged up but otherwise in one piece, _outside_ the mines, having evidently climbed out through a fissure that had opened to the surface.

At this C.C. interjected for the first time. "When they awoke, they all reported having seen men straight out of Ovid's fables tearing down support beams and weakening tunnel walls, in addition to rescuing them."

"Mountains have collapsed under more credible circumstances, C.C. I should know," said Lelouch wearily.

And indeed he did. To give himself an upper hand in dealing with the more stubborn pockets of resistance, he'd researched innovative weapon systems and came across some papers by a visiting Indian academic back when the Empire and China were on slightly friendlier terms. "Radiant Wave" technology as it was called described beams of concentrated radiation that were discharged – either by contact or even projection across the air without a physical medium – into a target with destructive effect. The papers were from a purely theoretical viewpoint with little technical data, so the best his engineers could do was knock together a device which channeled focused microwave emissions. The emitter could evaporate bodies of water almost instantly, a far cry from the real-life laser beam-type weapon he'd envisioned. However, by targeting underground rivers and water veins, Lelouch could trigger earthquakes and avalanches, perfect for dealing with Japanese terrorists in the mountain areas.

None of which meant beans to C.C., who gladly told him that there was proof to these wild tales.

"Proof? What kind of proof?"

"One of the workers possessed a cellphone, having completed all the fussy little forms so he was _technically_ an Honorary Britannian… whatever that means. In any event, he took pictures of their savior. They're fuzzy, but they show a man, a rather robust-looking fellow, dressed in bright red with a white operetta cape."

"What?" he said, not sure if he heard her correctly.

"I didn't pick out his clothes for him," she said rather defensively, fishing out of her pocket a print-up of the image. It hadn't been cleaned up so it was, as she said, fuzzy, but it still showed a white man with black hair, dressed as described with the addition of a golden streak down the front of his coat. He was built like a battleship, and would have to be, as the picture captured him shoving apart an archway of support beams like Samson pulling down the Temple of Dagon upon himself, a chunk of stone shattering to bits where it fell upon his head.

After she'd given him time to take it in, C.C. added, "The other rescued workers report similarly, albeit an African man in red-brown with a green cloak. No news on who or what caused the other mine cave-ins, however."

Lelouch compared the improbable stories to the redhead back in his office, who'd moved with speed that the human body was simply incapable of. With the thought of more people running about with unnatural abilities, a rather nasty thought occurred to him. His head turned like a tank cannon acquiring a target as he faced C.C.

C.C. was watching the news again. Noticing Lelouch glower out of the corner of her eye, she didn't even bother to snort. "Don't look at me. My contracts always glean powers of the mind, not the body." After a beat she added, "Jealous?"

He refused to rise to the bait this time. "Where did you get this?"

"Oh, I didn't," she answered facetiously. "Your knight has confiscated all materials, so I couldn't possibly have sneaked a peek."

"Good work, Jeremiah," he muttered to his absent knight. "I assume the workers are being kept from the media as well?"

"He calls it 'protective custody,'" she offered by way of an answer. "He nearly did the same to young Kururugi, too."

Lelouch frowned at his knight's presumption. Keeping the occurrences in the mines under wraps was expected, but using the opportunity to terrorize his childhood friend and nominal second knight of honor was going too far. "What could Suzaku _possibly_ have to do with this?" he asked, slapping his hand on the blurry picture.

"Nothing," she responded. "He's just trying to keep the attack upon Camelot secret as well."

"_What?_"

"While we were having fun, the hangar where Lt. Kururugi and Major Croomy suffer the eccentricities of Earl Asplund was attacked by a man in a blue cloak and a red suit of armor."

There was a beat as he struggled to keep up with the influx of information. "A man in a suit of armor?" he repeated.

"Which was red." She paused for a moment. "Naturally, Lord Gottwald has confiscated video footage of the attack and marked it for your eyes only."

"Let's see it," he said, guessing correctly the witch had somehow availed herself to that as well despite all his knight's precautions.

"It happened during lunch when personnel was minimal. Those present were knocked about by the intruder. They contend they were attacked with blasts from some kind of compressed air device, but the reality is that he may have taught our… mercurial friend that wind tunnel trick of his."

As she spoke, she sauntered over to the TV, the hem of her uniform bunching up around her thighs… which Lelouch took care not to take note of. She slipped a burned DVD into the appropriate slot and within moments they watched silently as the hangar conscripted for ASEEC appeared on screen. It was empty save for a handful of interns and technicians tinkering with parts from the series of KMF prototypes commissioned by Schneizel.

The TV screen had split into quarters which showed the hangar at different angles which occasionally switched. The grainy footage appeared at odd angles though, not standard for surveillance footage. Lelouch dismissed this as he watched Camelot's staff dither about the area.

Nothing happened at first, then the main entrance doors opened and in walked a man wearing, just as C.C. said, a suit of armor with a cape draped over him. The cape reached to the floor and had a high collar that surrounded the man's head, not unlike the cloak Lelouch himself wore on occasion.

Before he was noticed, the stranger gestured and a blast of air erupted from his hand. It resolved into a medium-sized whirlwind that flew around the room, grabbing each of the technicians and carrying them aloft. It finally zipped into an empty conference/break room, depositing the dizzy squints onto the floor as it dispelled. Following his manifestation inside, the armored man pulled the blinds on the windows close before leaving. Shutting the door behind him, he then squeezed the doorknob into a misshapen lump, fusing its components so the men were trapped inside.

With that done, the armored man walked straight over to Lloyd's "command center" and began typing away. One of the screens switched to show the angle from a discreet webcam, giving Lelouch a good look at the man. His armor was very streamlined, as was his helmet which had no visor, just slots for his mouth and eyes. There was no ceremonial engraving, but a downward-pointing arrow could plainly be seen on the brow of his faceplate.

C.C. hit the fast forward button as the armored man spent several minutes working on Lloyd's computer, either downloading files or uploading viruses neither could tell.

"All that time, and he didn't do anything about the security cameras," Lelouch muttered in wonder at the man's bravado.

"Actually, the surveillance system had already been sabotaged. Just before he entered, it started looping the video feed from the previous half-hour, so all security saw were the technicians still at work with the Knightmares. This footage is from extra cameras Earl Asplund had stashed here and there around the hangar."

Lelouch was surprised by this. The pudding-obsessed, self-styled sociopath didn't seem the sort to take extra security precautions, even with the classified nature of his work.

"The CCTV cameras already in the hangar didn't shoot his creations from their good side, essentially, was his explanation," C.C. said, shooting Lelouch's newfound respect for the man down in flames.

His frown relaxed a bit as something occurred to him. "The intruder had to have gone through a series of doors with security locks on them. What clearance code did he use?"

"None," C.C. answered. "Commands from your personal computer automatically turned the locks off and back on again after a few minutes as he headed towards the hanger."

"That settles it," he muttered, his theory proven. _That thief I Geassed – Robin – admitted to hacking the security system. He set up the CCTV loop that the guards received while he used the cameras himself to follow the movements of the man in armor, unlocking the doors for him as he headed for Camelot. _

C.C. returned the DVD player to regular speed as the intruder finished his work on the computer. He then got up from the chair and walked over to the middle of the hangar. Standing there, he stood with his arms outstretched for a moment before becoming completely enveloped in a cyclone that reached up to the ceiling. Lelouch felt a bad sense of déjà vu as the screen became a blur, as anything not anchored securely was pulled and carried along by the gale force at work. Indeed, the POV of one of Lloyd's cameras suddenly launched into the vortex and within moments only showed static.

Lelouch realized the intruder's intention as he remembered stories of wooden boards being pierced by straw during a tornado. While the armored war machines were hardly planks of wood, the debris was hardly bits of hay either as they repeatedly rammed into Lloyd's precious prototypes, already in various states of repair or assembly. This particularly held true for canisters of gas used for welding tools, which inevitably exploded and at least softened up the KMF's, not the least of which was the _Lancelot_. As they began to topple under the onslaught, Lelouch couldn't help but shudder as he saw what he thought of as his friend's personal Knightmare collapse to the ground.

With the metal massacre over with, the winds began to die down, eventually showing the man in red floating upon another whirlwind, which slowly lowered him to the ground. The hangar around him was now a wreck with tools and more sophisticated equipment in broken heaps, the Knightmares piled on top of each other. Water gushed everywhere from pipes torn loose, seeping into cracks in armor and likely causing more damage to their internal parts and circuitry.

It was at this point Lelouch saw that the ensuing cacophony had not gone unnoticed, as the main entrance doors suddenly flew off their hinges, blown off by a small explosive. Hardly a moment went by before a platoon of soldiers led by Suzaku charged into the room. They were followed closely by the head squint himself, Lloyd Asplund, who was obviously devastated by the damage done to all his work. So much in fact, he actually balked when his long-suffering assistant Cecile Croomy came beside him, offering him a cup of pudding to calm his nerves.

The prince only let this distract him for a moment as he concentrated on Suzaku and the troops he'd assembled. Not surprising, a blast of air like a whipping tendril issued from the armored man, knocking them all down except for Suzaku, who'd escaped it with an uncanny leap. This leap morphed into his signature "Spinzaku" move which he aimed at the intruder. Unfortunately, this only set him up for embarrassment as another gesture added to his spin, sending him careening into loops of chains still hanging from a broken pulley. Hopelessly entangled, Suzaku struggled valiantly to free himself but was quite helpless.

With all resistance dealt with, the man in red then touched an area of his forearm. Lelouch cocked an eyebrow as the bit of plating there slid back and a small device popped up. When the man pushed a button on the device, the prince wasn't too surprised to see him disappear much like the two young burglars from earlier. Surrounded by debris as he was, this time it was certain he actually disappeared into thin air and hadn't just slunk away while a light show caused a distraction.

The intruder did not leave alone, however. After seeing him easily dispose of Suzaku, Croomy had left Lloyd to his pathetic wailing and, grabbing a wrench up from the rubble, had proceeded to sneak up upon him. Just as the duplicate images appeared, Croomy tackled him, wrapping her arms around him in a chokehold, and vanished as well.

"She's ballsier than I would have expected," the witch droned again as the disc popped out. She slid it back wherever she had room for it on her uniform while stating that there had been no ransom demands for her but on the plus-side there had been no further attacks. "Here, at least," she added.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Rumors are escalating that attacks have occurred all along Britannia's borderlands – Areas, disputed territories, and so on. They all match the same pattern with mines, Knightmare hangars, and centers of government or military being infiltrated and sabotaged. Even secret facilities were not spared according to some gossip."

"How many fatalities so far?" he asked, not looking forward to the answer

"Another similarity. The attacks all occurred when the facilities were undermanned and its occupants gassed or otherwise incapacitated, or there was a false emergency that caused the site to be abandoned, so there would be next to no one to be endangered at all. The follow-up attacks were then carried out in about ten minutes or more, although some of the consequences – fires and whatnot – naturally didn't work on a time-table."

Lelouch stopped to consider this. That would have been the pattern of the burglary at his office, only he came back unexpectedly. He turned to C.C. as he continued constructing the chain of events that made the invasion of the palace different.

"The gas they used, it didn't affect you for long, did it?"

"Briefly," she muttered. Was it his imagination, or did she sound a tiny bit embarrassed? "I woke up just as 'Speedy' was about to help himself to _my_ pizza. I tried to grab him, but the other one caught me in time."

_So that's how she's wound up with those bolos all over her_, he concluded. Seeing how likely it was she intended to use that psychic flashback trick of hers, he wasn't sure how he felt about her being caught beforehand. He then remembered the feeling of spinning uncontrollably and decided that he _did_ know how he felt. _Be quicker next time_, he mentally groused at her.

He began ruminating on the pattern of attacks again, patiently considering the incapacitation of witnesses and sabotage of surveillance. It meant the source of these attacks was playing things close to the vest, relying on the mystery of the attacks to cause morale damage in addition to the collateral. Only he and those in his command had been "lucky" enough to clearly see the perpetrators. Not to mention how they made their escape, most likely.

"There's high alert throughout the Empire, even the homeland," C.C. added. "You're likely to be juggling phone calls for the next few days."

"What has the Emperor to say about this?" he asked testily. Usually he didn't give a farmer's bucket what that man thought, but with the Empire suffering counterattacks on all fronts, whatever he had to say may very well concern him. _So much for visiting—_

"Nothing," said C.C., interrupting his train of thought. "Not yet anyway. Your brother Schneizel hasn't made any comments either although news crews have seen him rushing about Pendragon."

_That's odd_, he thought. _The Emperor should have declared war on someone by now. At the very least, he'd make a big speech on television about how Britannia conquered all and would naturally triumph over their enemies. Schneizel would be more diplomatic, and try to sooth the public's nerves. Could either of them be trying to get ahold of more information before making any decisions at all? _

"Has Schneizel tried to call me? Has there been _any_ communiqués?" he asked aloud.

By now, however, C.C. had gotten bored playing "Miss Exposition" and had walked away while he'd been deliberating. She opened the door to the outside, surprising the guards who'd thought the Viceroy had been alone. "I'm not your secretary, Lelouch," she responded, her tone indifferent but testy, as she ignored the flustered soldiers who looked ready to dog pile on her.

"Let her go," he commanded offhandedly, knowing her attitude would just grate on him now anyway.

"Speaking of whom," C.C. called back over her shoulder as she was given room, "Minnie and the others have been fielding phone calls from your old school for hours now. The Ashford girl keeps demanding to speak to you, and they're getting sick of it."

He muttered a thanks as the door shut behind her, a button-push returning his mattress to a lying position so he could relax a bit. Closing his eyes, he tried to get the jumble of information cleared up in his head. Soldiers not dressed like soldiers, bizarre non-Geass powers, attacks around the Empire (which he might have welcomed any other day), the Emperor and the Chancellor both missing while the nobles and commoners alike threatened to run around like chickens with their heads cut off. And to top it off, Milly wanted to play phone-tag with him. _What could possibly be so important that—_

Lelouch shot up in his bed, feeling as if he'd touched a live wire.

Milly kept trying to call him. There were rumors of even _secret_ Britannian facilities under attack. These factors and more all spun through his mind, adding up into one perfectly dreadful equation. _Oh no. No no no no no no…_

Within minutes, the entire wing had been evacuated and a secure line, impossible to tap, had been established for Lelouch. All this had been done while the doctors and security were operating under a codeword-activated trance state he'd implanted weeks ago with Geass, insuring that even the existence of his extra-private phone call would be kept secret to their dying day.

"Come on." He paced as a dial tone came over the other end repeatedly, praying that he was wrong and Milly only wanted to hear that he was alright. For once, he'd even welcome an invitation to one of her ridiculous festivals, even if it involved cross-dressing again. "Come on, come on, come onnnnnn," he muttered in aggravation.

After centuries, there was a click on the other end and Milly answered. "Hello, welcome to Ashford Academy. You've reached the student council clubhouse…"

"It's me… Lelouch," he said needlessly. Milly's "phone voice" usually had a flirtatious edge that made strangers wonder if they'd accidentally dialed a softcore chat line. Instead, she sounded distracted as she recited the scripted greeting, which only made him more nervous. "What are the calls about? Is… is-is everyone safe?!" he stuttered out.

As he spoke, he heard Milly's hand clap over the mouthpiece as she yelled into the distance. Within moments, there was a fumble of words as people talked over each other while gathering around the phone. As this died down, there was a beep, followed by the sound of the phone being returned to its cradle. The line stayed open, however, indicating the speaker feature was on.

"Oh God, Lelouch… *snrrrt* we're so sorry! It's all my fault! I should have…" Shirley's tear-stained voice came first, and it was obvious she'd been crying, perhaps for the entire time they'd been trying to contact him.

"Wait! Who's there? We're on a secure line but I _need_ to know who's present before we say too much." He was already feeling his heart fall into his stomach, but he needed to observe the safety procedures they'd agreed to.

"It's just the old gang, Lelouch," said Milly, for once dropping her pet name for him… a bad sign indeed. "Kallen's not here; she called in sick again."

Lelouch clenched his teeth. He knew what her "sick days" meant and while it seemed preposterous that Kallen and her ragtag regiment would be involved, the timing was poor.

"I am here, too, Master Lelouch," spoke another voice he hadn't heard in months.

_Sayoko! _

He started to hyperventilate and not so much sat but fell onto the toilet seat. He'd already thrown up once today, so he'd taken to the bathroom in case he couldn't handle whatever the message from Ashford Academy would be. And the presence of Milly's maid-slash-bodyguard back in the clubhouse could only mean all his fears were true.

_They've taken Nunnally. They found out about the bolt hole and took Nunnally. _

The "bolt hole" was his nickname for a secret locale hidden underneath Ashford Academy, built in secret with no hint of its existence on any copy of the official blueprints. It was essentially a combination bomb shelter and panic room – _More like a panic suite_, he'd thought when he first inspected it – and was accessible by a secret elevator shaft hidden behind a sliding bookcase in the library. He'd made it his Plan B in the eventuality that he and his sister were found alive before he was ready. When Clovis had stumbled upon him, he nearly broke his neck getting Nunnally moved there before an investigation, even one so flimsy as Clovis and General Asprius were likely to pursue, could find hide or hair of her at the boarding school.

The world thus continued to believe her dead, a state preferable to being another pawn in the Emperor's style of international diplomacy which before had nearly seen her married off to Kururugi Genbu. In all the time since then, Nunnally had stayed safe and hidden beneath the school, guarded by Sayoko, frequently visited by Milly and the other student council members in the know. And for the past few months, that was all the company she'd been allowed.

_And just this afternoon, I'd been thinking of finally breaking my "quarantine" and visiting her after all this time_, he thought despondently.

"What…" He stopped and swallowed, keeping his voice calm. "What happened?"

There was a pause. He could picture them looking at one another, wondering which of them should go first. He was about to start yelling when their red-headed swimming enthusiast spoke up again.

"The cafeteria had her favorite cake at the dessert counter yesterday, Lulu, and I got extra slices. I figured we could use them for a little tea party, so I snuck them into the library in my bag today." She stopped to sniffle loudly, fighting the tears so she could finish the story. "I waited around the bookcase until the coast was clear like I'm supposed to, then opened it up and summoned the elevator. But when I got on, I turned around and there was this girl I'd never seen before looking at me."

"Describe her."

"Uh… almost my age, slim, black hair, and light blue eyes. She _looked_ Britannian but I don't know for sure. I didn't recognize her and she wasn't wearing a uniform, so I thought she might be an applicant looking around the place."

"What was she wearing?" Lelouch asked, interrupting her.

"Beige slacks and a wine-red top. Nothing special. Why?"

Lelouch ignored her question as he absorbed this information. _No capes, no armor, no masks. They didn't wear anything to draw attention to themselves in a civilian setting. That may mean something_. "What happened next?"

"Like I said," Shirley responded over the phone, "I thought she was an applicant. I was about to tell her I was with the student council on official business, that I was testing an old freight elevator in case we wanted to renovate it, when she spoke to me."

"Did she threaten you, Shirley?"

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know. She waved her hand in front of my face and said something. It wasn't in Britannian. And there was something wrong with her voice, like there was an echo even though she was right in front of me."

"And then?"

Shirley at first grumbled something in frustration over the line. "She must have sprayed me with something that knocked me out. I suddenly felt drowsy, and the next thing I knew, Nina and Rivalz were shaking me awake."

At this, Lelouch's former "chauffeur" took over the narrative, with the often silent member of their group adding the occasional affirmative mutter behind him. "Yeah, Lelouch. Nina was showing me some books I need for a report in chemistry class when we found Shirley zonked out at one of the reading tables near the elevator. She had stacks of books all around her, and she was resting her head on an open one like a pillow, snoring and droo—_OW!_"

"You don't need to tell him that!" the redhead yelled out from a distance.

"This is where I come in, Master Lelouch." Whatever her feelings were, Sayoko's voice was composed, which had a mild calming effect on Lelouch, her fortitude lending him a measure of strength.

"I was with the young mistress when the elevator was called," she explained. "I was worried as it stayed up longer than usual, but eventually we heard it coming back down the shaft."

_The delay must have been due to the mystery girl dragging Shirley over to the table and making it appear she'd fallen asleep during a cram session_, Lelouch guessed. "What did you do when the intruder arrived?"

"Nothing at first, my lord. When the doors opened, it was Miss Shirley. Or rather it looked to be her."

Lelouch blinked at this. He didn't hear any reactions over the phone, so they must have been told of the mystery girl's use of disguise already. He briefly wondered how she could have known in advance that Shirley would visit Nunnally, but dismissed it for the moment.

"Continue."

"As I said, it looked like her, but I soon guessed something was wrong. As she stepped off the elevator, she looked around as if she'd never been there before. Also, she moved differently than Miss Shirley does."

Had anyone else said that, Lelouch would have thought them either boastful, trying to make themselves sound like a bodyguard extraordinaire, or just paranoid. But Sayoko was the 37th successor to the Shinozaki School, a dojo that was a front for a famed ninja clan. Or at least as famous as a family of trained spies and assassins could be without compromising their effectiveness. If anyone could distinguish body language as easily as faces, she could.

"The young mistress could feel it too. She asked Miss Shirley if anything was the matter as she approached us."

"_Shirley, are you okay?"_ Lelouch could practically hear Nunnally say that. As warming as it was to hear of her natural concern for her friends, it also worried him that those might be the last words any of them ever heard from her again.

"It was then the intruder seemed to recognize her and asked, 'Princess Nunnally, is that you?' At that, I sprang, grabbing her in a chokehold with a kunai at the ready, and demanded to know who she was. She didn't struggle at all, she just held up her hands beside her head. I thought she was surrendering until…" She paused for a moment, the weight of her failure evident in her voice. "The same thing happened to me as Miss Shirley described. She said something, speaking low and evenly, yet her voice echoed. It sounded almost like she was saying, 'Peels aloft'. My next memory was being awoken by Miss Shirley, Miss Nina, and Mr. Rivalz."

"S-Sayoko was on the floor when we got there, Your Highness, and Nunnally was gone," Nina piped in quietly.

They continued to speak, each taking over the narrative of what they did next and what little they knew. The imposter had taken some of Nunnally's clothes and her schoolbooks as well. They hadn't grilled the librarian too much on who had left so as to not mention a wheelchair-bound girl. Milly had gotten ahold of the security camera they hid to keep an eye on the elevator, but it didn't show anyone leaving with Nunnally. By all rights, she should have still been down there so they don't know how it happened and they were all sorry, so very sorry and…

He was no longer listening to them. He clicked off the phone, allowing it to clatter to the floor as he slid off the toilet, joining it on the floor as he leaned against the outer wall of the tub. If he had a gun, he might be at risk of killing himself.

_It's all been for nothing_, he thought. Months of jumping through hoops for his father, while his sister was left buried alive on the other side of the world. And now she was gone… Nunnally, his sister, more precious to him than even his revenge against their father and for Mother's murder. He could say that now. It would have been one thing if these… invaders… had gone about simply demolishing the Empire, retribution for some slight against their people, a nation out of all the world he couldn't conceive which one it could be. He could live with his hatred denied, taken upon by someone else, but not his sister's health and safety.

He'd actually considered going to his private suite rather than his office as he'd stepped onto the elevator earlier that day. Just long enough for a change of clothes, then sneak away to Ashford for, however briefly, a reunion with her. But today, like every other day for nearly a year, he'd been paranoid and overcautious. Now that opportunity was gone.

_Could I have made a difference?_ he wondered. _Had I gone there, could I have shown up before Shirley's imposter, or caught her in the act? Robin hadn't expected Geass. That was one thing that had escaped their preparation for their attacks. It would have meant using it in front of Nunnally and my friends, but so what? _

If nothing else, they might have been together, both taken prisoner. Or maybe they would have left her behind. _I'm the Viceroy of Area 11, the conqueror of the M.E.F. _I'm_ the valuable one. Dear God, it's torture just thinking about— _

A shard of ice sudden went up and down his spine.

_Maybe it's not about who's valuable to them_, he considered. _They already have the power and ability to strike at our border interests with impunity. To penetrate our most closely guarded secrets. What need of they for someone to interrogate? _

He wanted to be furious. He wanted to smash ornaments around his apartments and rage at the sky, to swear bloody vengeance on Nunnally's kidnappers. All that happened was silence as the hours slowly passed by on one of the coldest, longest nights of his life as Lelouch pondered what he could do, and what could be happening.

Dare he contact his father and reveal the truth so a rescue may be attempted? Would it do a bit of difference, or just lose him any possibility of seeing Nunnally alive again? Was she still alive? What was happening to her? The intruders had done so much to avoid casualties, especially at the school. But Nunnally, technically, was a figure of authority of an enemy state. But one just had to look at her, see her living conditions to realize she had no part in the Empire's crimes.

Would that matter to them? Britannia loved kicking the people they'd conquered, stamping with booted feet long after they were down. It encouraged an eye-for-an-eye response by some. And a princess of the realm made for a tempting target.

There was nothing for it. Even as the doctor cleared him for service. Even as Sir Jeremiah reported on recovery operations within Camelot. Even as he received requests from the N.A.C. practically begging for emergency aid in reopening the mines. Even as he received an order for his presence at a special assembly of the imperial court. Nothing could prevent the notion that kept coming to the forefront of his mind.

The horrible notion that at that very moment, Nunnally was being… tortured.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._

_You didn't think Nunnally was _really_ dead, did you?_


	5. Chapter Four

**Knighta or Justice?**

**Chapter 4: "The Princess and the Purpose"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**Mount Justice, ****arbow, Michiganh****Rhode Island (a.k.a. The Cave or The Secret Sanctuary)**

**United States of America **

**The Retaliation plus one day **

"_NO!_ Please don't!" Nunnally screamed.

"Too late," one of her unseen tormentors, a boy, sneered at her.

"You had your chance, princess," the other, a girl, added.

She was alone, and she wasn't sure where she was. Princess Nunnally vi Britannia had some experience in this area, so her calm hadn't fragmented, not much anyway. Her captors hadn't badgered her with questions about stuff that could allow for an easier invasion of Japan, or breaking into the viceroy's palace. Not yet anyway. What she'd been asked about was obviously meant to affirm who she was, and then what had happened to her since the invasion.

Still, the series of questions, even in the relative comfort she'd been allowed, had added to her apprehension. Finally, tired of waiting for the axe to fall, she'd balled up her courage and pretty much demanded they stop playing nice with her.

"_You can beat me up all you want," she cried suddenly, "but it won't do any good! I don't know anything that can help you!" _

Now she desperately wished she could take it back. It had only been going on for a few minutes, but time means nothing when you're in agony.

"I can't take anymore! _Stop!_"

"You're the one who suggested torture, Your Highness. And everyone knows you royals are supposed to be obeyed _tout de suite_."

"You want it to stop, then give us… uh, give us the command codes!"

"Yeah! And troop movements! Where are they?!"

Nunnally let loose a loud whimper which begged them to stop. She wouldn't be able to take much more, and they knew it, doubling their efforts without pity.

She sensed the girl move upwards from her torso, and Nunnally flung her arms over her head instinctively. A bad move, as she felt the girl's hands grab onto her arm. Her fingers were long and might be considered slender, but they were cordlike, strong with calluses along her forefingers and the tips of her thumbs. Caught in her steely grasp, Nunnally was helpless as, just as she feared…

"PBBBBBTHPTHPTHPTHP!"

… the girl covered her mouth over her forearm and blew a raspberry against it.

Abandoning her feet, the boy had taken over from his partner, his fingers now zipping all around her tummy as he tickled her unmercifully. "How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" he demanded to know, affecting a growl in his voice.

The two fronts were too much and in spite of herself Nunnally collapsed into a squirming, giggling ball, nearly falling off the couch in the living room where they'd been talking together.

"Stop it! Stop it! I'm gonna pee_heeheeheehee!_"

**/ * YJ * /**

Sometime later, a more composed princess propped herself up on her elbows, allowing the wind to catch and play with her hair. She was outside. At long last, she was outside again.

She was on a beach, or rather close by it. The air had a slight salty taste to it, and there was the sound of waves rushing to and fro in the distance. Taking a bite out of the sandwich in her hand, she faced up at the sky as she chewed contently. She could feel the heat of sunlight but a good breeze on her face kept her cool wherever she was.

"Where" was the main question right now. She'd suddenly fallen asleep after someone had gotten into the shelter, and there was no way to tell how long she'd slept. She knew she had been moved, as when she'd awoken, she could feel that she was still underground but not beneath Ashford Academy. Even before she became aware of the difference in layout, a subtle change in the geology told her it was somewhere else.

This brought her to her captors, whom she was still getting a handle on. So far, she knew they were all teenagers, from her age to probably senior-class old. At first she'd clung to the possibility that they were students who'd accidentally found the elevator and were playing a prank, but that seemed unlikely to happen, nor their getting her past Sayoko.

The one who'd gotten into the shelter had either been disguised as or just looked like Shirley. Also, they spoke Britannian with only regional accents, except one whom she figured was their leader. This meant they weren't spies from China or Japanese insurgents, which was probably for the best, especially the latter. Despite the best efforts of Lelouch to whitewash the truth, over the years she'd gathered enough to paint a frightening portrait of how her half-brother Clovis had run Japan. As such, unless they were from the J.L.F. – and even then she would have needed Suzaku's Tohdoh-sensei right there with her – insurgents would have likely taken turns beating her up for real. At the moment, the most likely scenario was they were from the Euro Ultra-union, but a part of her doubted that too.

Whoever they were, they'd done their best to be nice, she could admit that now. At first, she'd been afraid and responded promptly to their questions, but still she may have come off as rude or superior. The "torture" they put her through had broken her trepidation, but nevertheless she wondered who they were and what they were going to do. In fact, it seemed that now that they had her, they didn't know what to do with her. Like they hadn't totally thought things through.

They'd asked some questions again after she'd visibly relaxed, including her reasons for hiding. As such they got out of her that she'd been living in the Ashfords' panic room ever since Lelouch had called the school in a panic about being seen and recognized about a year ago. With that, her two handlers had promptly gathered her up, slapped together a meal in a basket, and taken her outside. She was now sitting on a blanket over a large slab of rock, possibly part of the breakers when the tide was in, having a picnic.

"There you are," a voice came out from a short way away.

It was the group's leader, whom she'd heard speaking briefly when she first woke up. He was the one who spoke with a foreign accent, one she couldn't identify. He had a mild smell of brine to him that suggested he lived and worked by the sea.

_Could he be a spy who poses as a fisherman?_ she wondered, considering his accent would give him away as a foreigner.

"Hey, Ka – _Diver_! Hey there, Diver!" the boy, Dash, called out.

"Pardon?"

"Yeah, Dash here was calling out to you, _Diver_," the girl, who'd introduced herself as Diane, responded, emphasizing his name. "Are Dan and Dawn and the others going to join, too?"

In her mind's eye, Nunnally could see the leader, whom it was obvious had just been nicknamed "Diver," pinch the bridge of his nose as she heard him sigh. Then there was the _chuf-chuf-chuf_ sound of feet upon sand as he walked closer to the slab.

"Diane, did you have to take her outside? She could have eaten in the kitchen, and been more comfortable."

"It looked like shoving that thing over the sand _was_ a bear, come to think of it," Dash muttered, facing away toward where her wheelchair stood. Diane shushed him for it.

"Nunnally's been living underground since they found her brother alive," she said defensively. "I couldn't stand the thought of not taking her out for a little while."

"That was very considerate of you, and I am sure the princess appreciates it," Diver said. "But she is not a guppy who followed you home for you to indulge and pamper."

"'Puppy'," corrected Dash. "You said 'guppy'. It's a _puppy_ who follows you home."

"Not where I am from," Diver responded with a touch of amusement.

Nunnally heard Diane groan in mild irritation at this. "Like I was saying, we just took her outside to get some sun. And Dash was _supposed_ to leave a note in the kitchen saying where we'd gone."

"Yes, and I eventually found it… on the floor," Diver responded.

There was pause, then Dash sputtered, "Hey, she dared me to box up the food, get the blanket, and have things set up before they got to the beach. And it _was_ in the kitchen, like she said." There was another pause, during which Diver apparently gave Dash some kind of a look. This prompted Dash to whisper to Diane, "Okay, you're wearing your school uniform on _three_ dates, now."

Nunnally had heard them perfectly well, provoking a giggle.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we?" Diver asked.

"I'm… starting to," she responded as she faced him, carefully testing the walls of her new prison.

As she said so, she felt around and, finding the picnic basket, fished around for another sandwich. Finding a normal-sized one, as opposed to the quadruple-deckers Dash made for himself, she plucked it out. She then tossed it into the air, where the large dog – huge, really – that had accompanied them easily caught and ate it.

She turned her face towards where she'd first heard Diver's voice as others came up the path. There were three of them, one of whom called out to them when they were closer. "There you guys are! I was about to break out my dousing pendant."

Nunnally tensed up at that voice. It was the same girl who'd disguised herself as Shirley and found the bolt hole. She was the one to blame for her being taken from home. _Such as it was_, Nunnally admitted to herself.

"Princess, please stay here," Diver said to her deferentially. "We need to talk amongst ourselves for a moment." He then whistled and told the dog to stay, making sure she had a guard… or perhaps so she wouldn't try to escape. Either way, he stayed as ordered and flopped by Nunnally's side, encouraging her to pet him.

Pushing the picnic basket and thermos next to her for easier access, Dash and Diane got up and, with the crunching sound of sand underfoot again, walked away to meet the rest of their group.

**/ * YJ * /**

DASH: So, what's the update? How upset is the League?

GIRL #1: I'm not off the team or anything. Not everyone's happy I kidnapped the princess, but they get why I did it.

DIANE: You were thinking of Greta, weren't you?

GIRL #1: [_silence_] He buried her so he could run off and do his own thing, so… yeah.

DIVER: Zatanna, I can see how the viceroy's actions may have reminded you of Harm, but Princess Nunnally is plainly still alive. Her brother was hiding her to protect her from their family.

BOY #1: Doesn't really change the whole "upside-down Anne Frank" situation, Kaldur. And trust me, I know about living underground half the time.

DIVER/KALDUR: His methods may be questionable, but his actions speak for themselves. From what we've gathered, Lelouch is actually one of Britannia's more humanitarian governors. Since taking over, he's freed up the laws his empire loaded upon the Japanese.

GIRL #2: Oh, so in addition to making the trains arrive on time, he's guaranteed the natives standing room at the back. Let's throw him a parade. [_slow clapping, which suddenly stops_]

DIANE: Please don't. My dad practically invented that.

GIRL #2: Oh. Sorry, girl.

DIANE: Which leads right back to the heart of the problem… with some families, blood means no more than [_snaps her fingers_] that. Do we really want to give her back to him? To any of them?

DIVER/KALDUR: Such things are out of our hands. The League is sending a small squad to confront the Britannian royal family, to give both notice and an opportunity for them to sue for peace. Where it goes from there, what happens next, determines our next move.

GIRL #2: Which means either more fighting but no telling when and where, or standing around while a deal barely worth its own paper gets fussed over.

DIANE: Maybe both. Do we honestly think the politicians can handle this?

BOY #1: We're already involved, hand-in-hand with the government. The League wouldn't have been able to secure all those people in China without help from Checkmate.

DIANE: [_sighs_] I suppose they have to do something to look like they're on top of things.

GIRL #2: 'scuse me, but is anyone else worried about those Checkmate guys? That's not something that got thrown together; that was something that's been in the works for awhile.

DIVER/KALDUR: My king has on occasion mentioned world leaders grousing that they depend too much upon the League for dealing with the unusual, Rocket.

DIANE: Don't remember anyone complaining when cities were getting covered in mutant kudzu last year.

DIVER/KALDUR: Nevertheless, the sentiment is there: They want an agency immediately answerable to them, and Checkmate it seems will provide that answer.

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: Yeah, but how much longer before we become the unusual? I don't want us to wind up like the J.S.A.

DASH: Let 'em try, "Z". Until then, a little less work for us, right?

BOY #1: Speaking of how things are being handled, the word is that everyone stays where they are for now – raiders and other soldiers at Guantanamo, cultists and their kids under medical observation, ringleaders in this specialized prison they're calling "The Brain Trust," and Sir Psycho-pants in Arkham. Those goons Wonder Woman brought in are the exception, but that's to show Britannia they better take us seriously.

GIRL #2/ROCKET: What about Audrey Hepburn over there? [_silence_] What? I watch old movies, too.

BOY #1: Kind of up in the air. Before anything, the Manhunter wants to examine her, find out how real her hysterical blindness is.

DIANE: He thinks she's faking it?

DIVER/KALDUR: I'm afraid that it is nothing so mundane. Given the Britannian emperor's involvement in psychic research, it is possible her condition is not unlike Red Arrow's programming.

DASH: If that's the case, why wait for him? Megan was able to clear up Roy and Conner, too. Let her reboot Nunnally's noggin.

BOY #1: Miss M's still taking care of Conner. Between his reaction to Sakuradite and the fight with Chemo last week, he's going through another bout of Slapper-depression.

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: Plus, if it's anything like magic, Cadmus programming may be apples and oranges to what this Geass is. Better to play safe and let Manhunter do it.

BOY #1: Well, I hope that he's right. If so, it shouldn't be too long before she can see again.

DASH: Yeah, I bet she'd love to see your old trapeze act.

BOY #1: If I couldn't see for a long time, the first thing I'd do is go and just people-watch somewhere, like at the mall. But, us putting on a little circus act again… that's a thought.

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: [_Milly-ishly_] Oh, yeah… back in your white tights and red bolero jacket, huh, Danny?

BOY #1/DANNY: Hey, wait, I-I didn't mean it like that, okay?

GIRL #2/ROCKET: Not that I'm not interested in this but… "Danny"? Since when are you Danny?

DIVER/KALDUR: It is just "Dan," actually. For security purposes, "Diane" here has taken upon herself to resurrect, and to expand, a cover identity the Team once used for when we are around the princess.

DASH: Yup. He's Dan. Conner and Megan are Dean and Dawn again. Red Arrow is Dane if we see 'im. I'm Dash, obviously. We've decided you guys are Diver and Kadabra, which leaves…

GIRL #2/ROCKET: [_silence_] Call me Daisy, but not if we run into Static, okay?

DASH: That "Black Lightning, Jr." kid? Never even met him. What's the problem?

GIRL #2/ROCKET: Just some secret identity stuff I accidentally heard him say once. Just… don't bring it, up, 'kay?

BOY #1/DAN: Diver, Daisy, Dash, and Kadabra?

DIANE: And Doggie. Wolf is Doggie around her.

BOY #1/DAN: [_groans_] C'mon, Artemis! We're the Daring Dangers, not the Beagle Boys! And I'm not doing any kind of Cirque du Soleil performance for anyone. Not in that getup.

DASH: I just said trapeze act, dude. You're the one who brought up the French spandex crowd.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: [_feigned horror_] Oh, the zoo-manity. [_laughs_]

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: The Daring Dangers… those were the gypsy circus troupe i.d. you guys used in Europe, right? Megan mentioned that to me months ago.

DASH: Whoa, that was a lot of M's. [_silence_] Waitaminute! If you'd called yourselves The Masked Marvels, that'd make my name Minus, right?

GIRL #2/ROCKET: As opposed to… ?

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: Anyway, it's not a bad idea to dust off if we have to go back again undercover.

DIVER/KALDUR: A strong possibility. In the meantime, once Manhunter has examined Nunnally, for better or worse, a more permanent situation will be arranged for her.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: Why can't she stay here?

GIRL #1/ZATANNA: In the cave? The entire reason I brought her here was she was being treated like a jealous king's daughter in some fairy tale. And based on the picnic, so do you.

BOY #1/DAN: Exactly. If she's going be a hostage, than she's going to be our hostage, with emphasis on the "host". This means she gets to live out in public again with – whaddya call 'em? – other people.

DASH: Dan-o's right. Besides, she used to go to school under a cover identity; I'm sure she can do the same here again.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: Okay, let's consider this. Even if we can fix it so she can see again, we can't just give her lunch money and drop her off at the bus stop every day. She'll still need a school with a good special needs program. Does the school in town even have one?

BOY #1/DAN: Assuming that it does, I'm not sure Conner or Megan can explain spontaneously growing a little sister. Gotham City may be our best bet.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: Bad idea. The kids at Gotham North will eat her alive.

DIVER/KALDUR: Another good reason that Gotham Academy is under consideration.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: What?!

BOY #1/DAN: It does have a good special needs program, and she'll have security.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: Yeah, me. She'd have two guardians if she went to Happy Harb— what's so funny?

DASH: [_snickering_] Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

DIVER/KALDUR: Artemis, we are not even sure the League will allow the princess to go to a local school during her time here. However, in the event she is, you are best suited for looking after her. You have practical experience living with someone confined to a wheelchair… their emotional needs, the day-to-day inconveniences, things someone unfamiliar might not even think of. But most importantly, you and your mother create a family setting. She needs that far more than bodyguards at the moment, and it would be good for you as well.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: You want me to play big sister? [_silence_] My family hasn't the best track record with regards to sibling… sibling "valry" I guess you'd call it.

BOY #1/DAN: No, but I get what you mean. [_quietly_] Guess I'll be the one to help with her English homework.

DASH: You said it yourself, Artemis… "Some families." That doesn't have to be the family you build.

DIANE/ARTEMIS: [_silence_] Ready to play house already, huh, Dash?

DASH: There's… no safe way to answer that, is there?

BOY #1/DAN: Nope. Sorry, Minus.

**/ * YJ * /**

Denied sight, Nunnally's hearing had been become uncanny over the years, Rivalz having once badly attempted to compliment her by saying she had the ears of an elephant. Still, a little help every now and then was welcome. While arranging their picnic, Dash had chosen a spot where the wind was blowing towards the beach rather than from it, cutting down on the likelihood of sand getting into their food. Just now, the wind had also been useful in carrying their voices, and she'd caught every word her captors said. While she didn't understand all of it, it had been interesting. And educational.

The bit about them posing as a circus act played across her mind. For some reason, she dwelled on the part about one of them, a young male gymnast evidently, putting on an aerialist act while in tights just for her. She felt herself blush and so abruptly shook her head, getting her train of thought back under control.

Continuing her review, she felt now like she understood them just a bit more, what kind of people they were and their reasons for what they'd done. They worked for some group of people, "The League," that had evidently been contracted by whomever Britannia was now at war with to infiltrate and do some damage to the Empire. This didn't mean they were fighting the battle for them, as the mention of this Checkmate agency – something that could very well interest Lelouch – meant they needed some manpower for large-scale operations.

More importantly, her kidnapping was less ominous now. They hadn't _known_ she was there, they just somehow learned there was a secret place beneath Ashford Academy and one of them, Zatanna, had been sent to check it out. Based upon the connotations of these Harm and Greta people, it sounded like Zatanna had kidnapped her in the spur of the moment, afraid that she was in danger. She still preferred if they'd stopped to talk about it, but knowing her reasons made Nunnally a tad guilty for the ill feelings she'd harbored against her.

While she may have a better grip on who she was dealing with, that didn't fill every void she was feeling right now, though.

As she pondered this, she moved her hand carefully along the blanket by her side until she could feel the thermos. Taking hold of it, she refilled her drink, correctly guessing when to stop by the feel of its weight and the echo of the liquid hitting liquid off the inside of the cup. She'd done all this with precision born of years' experience reading the world through her fingers as much as her ears. Usually, Sayoko or one of her friends did it for her, but she could do such simple things as easily as if she could still see.

It wasn't juice, but rather fruit punch, the kind of "flavored sugar-water" she could imagine Lelouch having kittens about her drinking. With a wicked little smile, the thought prompted Nunnally to take a deep draught of it. She idly wondered what color it was. She wondered if she would have to wonder for much longer.

"_The Manhunter wants to examine her, find out how real her hysterical blindness is," _Diver had said.

It had taken everything not to exclaim, to pepper them with a thousand questions even though it would show she'd been listening in on them. They'd talked about her blindness as if it were something a doctor's prescription could clear up, or like taking a computer to the electronics club or a fix-it shop after Rivalz had used it. To help her open her eyes again, and to see all that the world had to offer and all that she'd been missing!

_And they talked like they'd do it for me no matter what!_ she said to herself, stifling a giggle that threatened to burst out. _They're not going to dangle it in front of me, demanding I do something for them in exchange for it. They'll just do it because it's wrong I was made like this and it's something they can fix and if they can I'd be so happy and grateful so very, very…_

Grateful.

Her emotions suddenly stalled out, the exuberance she'd just felt draining out of her. Her gratitude… too often it was all she had to give. Lelouch had once complimented on her smile, saying it was her way of payment for the things she could not do herself. He'd spoken so lovingly, but a part of her had felt hurt, as it hit her how much she smiled for others. If what he said was true, and she never knew Lelouch to lie to her without good reason, than to be grateful all the time meant to be dependent all the time, too.

Suddenly her drink didn't taste so sweet. Thoughts of being grateful, and being reliant on others all swirled around her head. The same circle she'd lived through with Lelouch and her friends was beginning here all too easily.

_It shouldn't be this way_, she thought. _I should be able to depend on myself. I'm a princess of Britannia after all… aren't I? _

Somewhere in the world gathering dust – or perhaps decorating a chamber pot in Carine's villa – was a tiny crown, a tiara really. It wasn't a reward, though, but a gift, bestowed upon her by rote of her parentage. "Princess Nunnally" had never been a role she'd undertaken, and therefore not one she'd ever really earned.

Years ago, while she'd still been convalescing from the attack on Aries Villa, her father – in his own, tactless manner – had outlined to Lelouch that everything he had was owed to his title, which was merely a consequence of his birth. Ironically, it was after Lelouch had lost his crown that he started behaving like a prince.

Nunnally had similarly lost any privileges but what Lelouch, and later President Milly, could provide for her. Now those were gone, too. It was now either be utilized by her captors, however a friendly bunch they seemed to be, or finally stand on her own two feet… metaphorically speaking.

Whatever country was at war with the Empire, being a princess was sure to make her technically an enemy official to be detained even if she wasn't put on trial. On the other hand, it also made her somebody important, someone they'd listen to if she was willing to cooperate. She could offer to serve as an ambassador for Britannia, enabling her to contact the royal court and convey that their new enemy was willing to open to a dialogue in spite of the history between them. Another option upon contacting home then occurred to her, as she would be in a prime position, and would be an unlikely suspect, for spying.

_But either way, I'd have to show that I'm still alive_, she thought anxiously. _Lelouch would get into a lot of trouble for telling the Emperor lies about my death during the invasion_. After a moment's pause, she continued to roll the prospect around anyway.

Whenever she really stopped to think about it, Nunnally eventually came to the conclusion that Lelouch had dropped the ball, and she was paying the price for it. He'd told her that he didn't want their father to use her like when they'd been sent to Japan as hostages, so he was going to claim she had died. Because of this, she would have to stay hidden until he was in a position where her reappearance wouldn't get either of them beheaded. Caught up in the rush, she'd accepted that logic without hesitation. She hadn't thought about which she would prefer – a limited freedom from a man she feared and hated, or prolonged imprisonment by her loving brother – but then, neither had Lelouch.

Since then, it had occurred that, as intolerant their father was of contradiction or defiance, their safety required nothing less than the end of his reign. But how was that possible? The Emperor retained ultimate power over the best knights, the best army, the best spies in the world, perfect for thwarting any attempt to depose him. And while he was no spring chicken anymore, she remembered him as a huge, healthy bear of a man which time had apparently done little about, so neither was he likely to drop dead anytime soon. As such, she was expected to wait and wait for years and years until Lelouch said it was safe.

_How many years?_ she wondered, becoming increasingly upset. _How long before he _finally_ thinks he doesn't have to worry about anyone taking us to task for what _he_ said? Ten years? Twenty?! I'll be over thirty by then… an old maid! _

And then there were the conditions of her little haven. The bunker was supposed to be just a stopgap while everyone was abuzz over Lelouch's "resurrection", then he'd move her someplace better for the long haul. He was viceroy now, with more than enough influence to move her some place in secret, somewhere she could begin a new life without anyone getting suspicious. Instead, she'd remained in the Ashfords' shelter like a valued but rarely-used family heirloom at the back of a jewelry box.

She could tell that Sayoko and her friends on the student council felt the same way. However, they'd done little about it, preferring to follow Lelouch's lead. Perhaps that was why in the past few weeks she'd caught herself getting progressively snippy towards them. She wanted to think it was cabin fever, but no… she was feeling betrayed by them as well, as guaranteeing her safety had at some point become more important than she herself was.

Logically, being cooped up for so long in that windowless cocoon should not have bothered her. She'd been blind for years, so it wasn't like she was missing out on seeing things outside anymore than when she was inside, right? It should seem like she was underground all the time anyway, having long been past the point in her blindness where a part of her was always waiting for it to end, like it was caused by a blackout and any moment the lights would blink back on.

But the constant enclosure had actually elevated matters anyway. It denied all the little nuances that informed her whether it was morning, noon, or night, melting them together and skewing her internal clock. All she could sense were the four walls around as she moved to room to room and no more. She was feeling a darkness that was not just a lack of illumination or visual input, but a growing state of mind… Limbo. Being outside again, with the breeze, the sun, animals, flowers in the air, the sound of the surf, had been therapeutic for her. It also hammered it in that her new home had increasingly felt like an oversized sensory deprivation tank.

She came up short at the thought of sensory deprivation. From their conversation, she found out that the League hadn't just infiltrated Ashford Academy, but apparently had good intelligence on – and taken prisoners from – Britannian installations. They had mentioned uncovering her father engaged in psychic research, which she knew enough to mean stuff like mind-over-matter, predicting the future, or hypnotic trances, and so they questioned if her blindness was something that had been _done_ to her.

Nunnally wasn't sure if it was a dim memory that had just popped into her mind, or merely a fantasy based on that suggestion, but a part of her could imagine, could practically _see_ the Emperor standing over her, ordering her to close her eyes and never reopen them. She'd long surrendered to the truth that her father loved only power, power over the world even as he ignored the responsibility that ownership entailed. He'd seek power over the mind itself if the prospect was realistic, surely, and he'd not be above using one of his "lesser" children for a test of what he could do.

_And if it's true_, she thought bitterly, _there can be no forgiveness. Not for him. Not this time. Not for this… betrayal. _

While Lelouch could be trusted to rant, ramble, and rave whenever memory of their exile and their father's attitude occurred, Nunnally had always kept quiet. Her brother worried about her enough without knowing how hurt she had felt when she learned how their father had decried them both. And besides, a tiny part of her felt pity for him, feeling half his reason was that he was trapped, a prisoner of Social Darwinism as much as anyone else. She clung to that belief, as it allowed her to understand him, if not forgive him.

_Lelouch I can forgive, always. He's hurt me, but only because he's hardheaded. He thinks too much ahead and can forget people's feelings. But Father… if he _made_ me a "weakling" that was useless to him, and then either couldn't fix it or just didn't care to... _

Unconsciously, she bit into her sandwich in a way that made the dog whimper and back away from her, but she hadn't noticed. Her mind was fraught with thoughts and imagery, the kind she shouldn't be having, and with effort she calmed herself. She chewed mechanically as she considered all her options.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she came to a decision, but she squared her shoulders and wiped it away. No more tears came, perhaps because there simply were no more, or perhaps because they'd been dried out. Even as the darkness remained, a tiny ember deep within the abandoned princess had begun to sputter into flames.

_Before I do anything, before I volunteer my services, before I choose to spy for the Empire, let's find out what more I can glean from them. If they can help me see again, if they can tell me more about what Father is guilty of, what Lelouch and my brothers and sisters have done. Let's see what they can do for _me_ first, and then I'll give them whatever I feel like. I can do that; it's what I'm supposed to do. After all… I am a princess of Britannia._

Cautiously, the hound returned to her side as the aura of malice slowly faded, replaced by cold pragmatism. She ate healthily again, tasting her food and savoring the flavors of her drink as her mind swirled with thoughts of what could be hers if she could play the cards life had most recently dealt.

_Eyes to see again_, she mused. _To know the world around me, to take it for all that it is, both the good and the bad. To, in a way, finally meet the people who share Lelouch's heart with me_.

_Legs that I can walk upon… perhaps_, she added more idly, knowing her legs' wastage was not psychological in nature, but due to multiple fractures, loss of marrow, and damage to tendons. Still, it was something to consider.

_Lelouch_, she thought – just "Lelouch" – as her list continued. And why? To slap for abandoning her for so long? To scream at and berate for constantly treating her like a child, refusing her to shoulder any of the burden? To tackle to the floor and pepper with kisses, overjoyed they were together again? To laugh at for all his pretensions and willful ignorance, such as Shirley's affections, that even a blind girl could see? To at long last have a good cry with as they mourned their mother? Yes. Yes, all of that, and so much more.

_Father_. She left it at that, or tried to. She wanted to rationalize and think that it was to look him in the eye and demand answers, to get _real_ justice and not his for a change. But she knew that to be a lie, her feelings too bleak and ugly to articulate, they scared her so.

To be honest, it was "The Emperor" she inscribed upon the list in her mind's eye, and underneath were footnotes of names alongside hurtful words or deeds, courtesy of a number of her half-siblings. She didn't wish to follow these either, as just the thought of seeing the look on the face of Carine when she returned to Pendragon hale and hearty threatened to twist her first wish into something wrong. So she tried to leave it at that.

"My health, my brother… my father," she consolidated with an affirmative nod. It was all she could ever want, less than what most would ask for, and more than one was likely to get in a single life. Eyes (and legs… maybe). Lelouch. And the Emperor.

_And my own pet trapeze artist, _added a voice that was hers yet had an indefinable difference. _A cute boy all tight and muscley like Suzaku but my age who I can—_

**/ * YJ * /**

Without warning, Robin spun around away from the group and dropped into a crouch. But for a curse muttered by Artemis, the rest were silent as they suddenly huddled into a defensive circle, alert for anything coming their way.

As quickly as it began, however, their "battle" ended as an explosive sneeze from Robin sent up a cloud of sand particles.

"Sorry about that," he said apologetically as he stood up again, rubbing his nose with one hand while the other waved free-floating grit away from his face. "Just came out of nowh–wh–what the heck?"

He'd spoken as he turned back around to the group and thus saw as, back at Artemis and K.F.'s picnic, the Britannian princess had started bonking herself on the head with her fist.

"What am I _thinking_?!" she cried out as she continued to chastise herself, unaware at the weird stares she was now receiving.

"Perhaps," Aqualad suggested after a moment's pause, "we can ask M'gann to do a preliminary scan after all."

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._


	6. Chapter Five

**Knighta or Justice?**

**Chapter 5: "Court of Equity" part 2**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**Imperial Palace, the City of Pendragon**

**Holy Empire of Britannia, mainland (a.k.a. Area 1)**

**The Retaliation plus five days**

_Sister, what are you _thinking_?!_ Euphemia cried out internally.

The doll-like princess had been awakened from her musings upon Schneizel's presentation when her sister began speaking, only to cringe as Cornelia made her needless accusation. She looked at its recipient, Lelouch, who simply frowned back at Cornelia before falling back into silence, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts of the recent past and these new revelations.

Seated next to him, Euphie caught a quick look of sympathy from Schneizel, who otherwise carried himself neutrally, his hands folded together on the tabletop. Incisive as always, he knew too well the predicament she was in. She returned the gesture with an appreciative nod before sitting back in her chair.

She desperately wanted to relax, to take a moment to stop and compose her thoughts. She wished everyone gathered would do the same before they continued the meeting. But it was not meant to be. The chairs they were in were unfamiliar and too straight-backed to relax. Also, it was apparent few of her siblings were of the same, contemplative mind.

Her elder sister, as a matter of fact, had evidently made it her mission to display her combative mood. Out of the corner of her eye, Euphie watched as Cornelia dumped a handful of reports she'd seen her gathering earlier. They compiled the damage done and speculated repair-time for the mines, outposts, factories, and other installations that had been attacked in the past few days. Particularly worrying were the docks and ports, now either clogged with sunken ships or blocked by coral reefs that had appeared overnight. Without them, available supplies that had escaped the attacks could not easily be portioned out where they were most needed.

For the moment, however, that was of secondary importance. What was foremost on mind was the source of these attacks, which Schneizel had just provided the answer for.

Despite her uncomfortable chair, Euphie's mind slipped back into meditation. While most everyone else teetered on shock, the presentation on Tarnhelm had held no surprises for her. What was news to her had occurred during the introduction of the project's representatives, which included young Miss Einstein. It was her connection to their brother and the impact of her equations on the project which was the impetus for Cornelia's behavior now, attempting to make Lelouch, however tenuously, responsible for the mess they were in. For her part, Euphemia just sighed quietly, helpless as the gulf between two of her dearest siblings widened seemingly with every day.

Unlike many of the royal family, she'd been overjoyed when Clovis had reported his chance discovery of their long-missing half-brother. Said joy had nearly turned to tears as she realized how their father expected him to make up for the time he had lost making himself of service to Britannia. Lelouch had been home only a day before being sent off for training in military service. From there it was straight into a campaign to seize as much of northeastern Africa and the Middle East as possible, chopping away at the tentacles of the Empire's old enemy, the Euro Ultra-union. It had been during his triumphant return home that she finally had time to sit him down and try to reestablish their atrophied friendship.

"Try" being the operative word.

_I started off by trying to coax him into talking about what happened when contact was lost during the invasion of Japan, _she thought. _I should have known better._ It only had brought back memories of losing Nunnally, a topic of which Lelouch would not speak, not even to her. Whenever she tried to bring it up, he would only get tense and remind her that he'd already given an official report to Schneizel.

"… and it says everything that needs to be said, so get a copy from him," he'd told her curtly, terminating their conversation.

It had been one thing to believe her dead when there was no solid evidence. But to hear directly from Lelouch's lips made it feel like Nunnally had died all over again. She wanted desperately for him to be open with her, not so much for herself that she could grieve properly, but for his own peace of mind as well. It was clear he hadn't achieved closure, that he held himself accountable. For both of them to mourn would do him a world of good.

She thought that she might have an opportunity when he appeared at the emergency meeting following the first series of attacks. He had been an entirely different person then, welcoming and helpful as she was on the verge of falling apart. It seemed that, if one good thing had come out of the crisis, he was willing to let the walls between them crumble. But now, they were right back up again.

_Does it really have to be like this?_ Turning her head, she took in her elder sister as she absentmindedly rubbed a bruise still on her face with her free hand, her left arm set in plaster and hung up in a sling over her midriff. She hated the theatrics Cornelia had engaged in just now, especially how she'd noisily moved her chair around before attacking Lelouch. She bet that it had been done just to get everyone's attention first, as she doubted Cornelia had actually been paying too much attention to the presentation.

Her cool attitude was totally undeserved, in Euphemia's opinion. Lelouch's actions in Africa were… well… exactly the sort of thing their father demanded from each of them, and Lelouch could do no less. In fact, to prove himself to the throne – spectacularly and repeatedly – was the unspoken mandate of their father.

_It all worked out for the best_, Euphie liked to think. Lelouch had taken the initiative, ending the stalemate between Britannia and the Middle Eastern Federation, opening the way for Area 18 to be opened. _It wasn't anything Big Sister couldn't have done, just that she would have taken longer. _

_Much, _much_ longer_.

Cornelia could be so stubborn at times, and where battle was concerned, she and those under her command relied almost entirely upon the power of their Knightmare Frames. Sometimes, it seemed she did so as a sign of respect for her old mentor, Lady Marianne, who had championed the expansion of KMF's as a new branch of service. Other times it looked to be a simple matter of her warrior's pride, treating battles as duels writ large where pure skill was relied upon like knights of old. All the same, against the might of the M.E.F., consistent close quarters combat only produced the odd victory after suffering massive losses of her own. If it wasn't for the fact that she fought on the frontlines, personally leading her men into battle, Euphie doubted she would have much loyalty from her troops with the risks they had to take.

_And speaking of taking risks…_, she thought as she remembered the aftermath of the Middle East campaign.

That Lelouch had taken no end of liberties, bordering upon mutiny some argued, could not be denied. But his actions had met with success, and success, as His Majesty had once stated, was the sole earthly judge of right or wrong. As such, Lelouch was rewarded with a peerage upon his return to Pendragon. He was no longer the "commoner prince" too many other royals and noble houses had mocked. Furthermore, he was a hero of the Empire; the public was as fascinated by the mystery of his lost years living among them as his miracles on the battlefield.

A sure sign of his elevation both imperial and to the people was his return to Area 11 as commander over all military concerns there. It was an important region with its abundance of Sakuradite deposits, and overseeing its protection was a responsibility given to him by the Emperor and Prince Schneizel as preparation for a future campaign against the Chinese Federation.

Or at least, Euphemia had assumed as much. Schneizel had been speaking offhandedly when he said in front of her that he had plans for solidifying the Empire's interests in Asia in the near future, and that Lelouch would play a pivotal role. "I don't want to ruin the surprise," he added when she attempted to press for more details.

All too soon, tragedy struck with the death of Clovis, fate balancing out the return of one brother with the loss of another. Lelouch became temporary viceroy, effectively removed from the battlefield as he dealt with the inadequacies of Clovis' reign over the former island-nation. Schneizel sent Cornelia to join him there, which Euphemie had hoped would give them the opportunity to reconcile. Instead, it compounded the hurt feelings between them – Cornelia with her (mostly) imaginary feelings of having been upstaged, while Lelouch felt like he was being micro-managed in his reconstruction of the area.

Making things worse, according to Cornelia in her letters to home, was that Lelouch had adopted some of Clovis' less-savory habits. Sometime after his return to the area, Lelouch had taken in a disrespectful waif who went by her initials with no other identification of her family or pedigree. Euphie was hopeful that her sister had jumped to conclusions, but if Lelouch kept this "C.C." anywhere as close at hand as Cornelia said, what else was she to think?

Of course, that was her sister's take on the situation. Euphemia hadn't been afforded the chance to see things for herself. Area 11 was in development status, and until it was reevaluated as a satellite of Britannia, it was a savage land, unsafe for her to visit. This was Cornelia's usual excuse whenever she left on her latest assignment, stopping at the main doors of their villa just long enough to give Euphie a hug, a peck on the forehead, and a reminder to be good while she was away. It had been her excuse as well when made Vicereine of Area 18, having returned from her secret assignment.

_Ah… Big Sister's "secret assignment,"_ she thought.

It was all rather apparent now, but at the time Cornelia had been appropriately close-mouthed when she'd suddenly returned from Area 11. All Euphie knew at the time was that she'd been summoned to a special conference with His Majesty, from which she'd immediately left for Dallas and the private labs and industrial park there owned by Schneizel. And what was she going there to do?

"_I'm not just a princess, Euphie, but a military officer. I go where I am told, and serve the needs of the Empire to the best of my ability." _

That was another of Cornelia's automatic answers, given whenever asked what she does while on assignment. She'd been just as unwilling to part with details when she returned a few weeks later, although Euphemia could pick up on a hint of annoyance about the whole thing. She'd simply taken a few days for R&R, which with Cornelia meant making sure her division and others under her command weren't dragging their feet with their duties in case they were called to action sooner than expected. This was only broken by some alone time with Euphie, usually a picnic in the gardens around Chalcedon Villa.

Admittedly, Cornelia always did her best to use this opportunity to catch up for lost time, but for once it seemed like she wasn't really there. She'd been distracted, gazing off into space, buried deep in thought. It had been up to Euphemia to carry on any conversation, to which her sister's answers had either been vague acknowledgements that she'd spoken, and occasionally just an affirmative-sounding grunt. This continued even as Euphie's speech began to skew towards the nonsensical in an attempt to snap her out of her daze.

"_The first week you were gone, brother William invited to me to another garden party at that fancy summer home of his in Virginia," she said, filling Cornelia in on the social scene she'd missed while away. She'd started with the festivities of the 15th__Prince, whose interest in the theatre had made him an insufferable follower and patron of his namesake's works. "You can guess what he had arranged for entertainment," she added, good-naturedly. _

"_Naturally," Cornelia responded, but there had been a moment's pause that her sister had picked up on. Lying on her back with her arms crossed behind her head, it looked as if she was uncharacteristically cloud-gazing. _

_With a cocked eyebrow, Euphemia continued. "I think it was supposed to be all post-modern interpretations though, what with Lord Montague having Juliet tied to railroad tracks rather than forced into an arranged marriage." _

"_Mm'hmm." _

"_And Oberon a talking badger from outer space." _

"_Sounds like it was fun, Euphie." _

_She paused for just a moment before deciding to bring out the big guns. "I'm pregnant. The father is the footman… or his cousin, an out-of-work street performer with a harelip. Which felt odd, by the way." _

"_How nice for you." _

At that point Euphemia had simply poked her in the neck with a cube from the ice chest holding their drinks. Now _that_ had gotten her attention.

Nevertheless, Cornelia was resolved not to speak of her and, a few days afterward, gave Euphemia a kiss again as she returned to the Middle East as the new Vicereine of Area 18. Naturally, she took along her aides, Sir Gilbert and General Darlton, who'd proven just as impenetrable about the whole affair. Euphie could usually wheedle some scraps of information from them, which all went to prove that whatever had happened in Dallas had been of the highest security clearance, her puppy dog eyes never having failed her before.

Her more-or-less safe return after her disappearance, however, had seen a complete reversal in Cornelia's attitude, the proud Goddess of the Battlefield opening up in the intervening days. Days she'd been allowed time for medical treatment, followed by rest before being debriefed, which had allowed Euphie time to wear down her sister's defenses. Not that she had needed much time to do so.

Maybe she felt a need to make a confession, or perhaps she just needed someone to talk to as she straightened it all out in her head. Maybe it was the painkillers they'd given her still in her system. Whatever the reason, Cornelia had done the unthinkable – breaking with standard operating procedure – and told her little sister all she knew.

Thanks to the work of a number of scientists, including an Honorary Britannian whose presence Cornelia hadn't failed to roll her eyes at, Schneizel had started a new research project. Code-named Tarnhelm, its goal was to create a working process for teleportation, to literally make things disappear and reappear elsewhere. They had been more-or-less successful, as the project had found a way to teleport things and people safely, but with the inescapable side effect of provoking what they called a "wave function shift", which was the opposite of a "wave function collapse".

Whatever _that_ meant.

In layman's terms, Tarnhelm's process worked in that it could send anything just about anywhere on Earth. The problem was that it was not _their_ Earth. Their test subjects, whether they be animal, vegetable, or mineral, all materialized on what was called a "parallel Earth," a copy of their world but with potentially slight or major differences.

Not surprisingly, within a week, having read the report (although he still ordered Schneizel to condense it for him when he was summoned), the Emperor had ordered an expedition be sent to the "nearest" parallel Earth, which had since been officially dubbed Earth-2. Schneizel had anticipated expedition parties to be ordered, and in fact it had been one of his sticking points in his report. But it had been with the hope that the parallel Earth phenomenon would be investigated as purely a scientific and intellectual concern, while Tarnhelm returned to its original teleportation program. Britannia didn't need another war front, as the military was already bogged down with the E.U. There was also the potential for aggression from China and the continued rebel activity in many of the areas to consider.

This was not to be, however. Not surprisingly, the expedition's main purpose was to spy, to gather information on Earth-2's societal structure as well as military capabilities. This was to be followed by a series of raiding parties at critical points of both strategic and psychological importance. What had begun as an experiment in a new method of transportation had instead opened new worlds (literally) of conquest for the Empire.

Whatever his feelings were, naturally Schneizel had obeyed. A few days later, after an explanation of the program and the specifics of their mission, a small team of experienced intelligence officers, accompanied by the Knight of Twelve Monica Kruszewski, were subjected to the wave function shift process. Careful examination had shown it was always the same parallel Earth that experiments led to, which Schneizel's team had explained – or tried to explain – was "a result of the specific eigenstate values being applied to the Tarnhelm particles to cause a wave function shift". Trying to understand all that, Cornelia had admitted, made her head spin, so she just accepted that it was happening and got on with her work.

It had taken Euphemia a few minutes to adjust to all of this, too – what Schneizel had achieved, what their father had used it for, and her sister's participation. During that time, Darlton had stood by respectfully while Cornelia continued lying on her hospital bed, either waiting for her sister to react or reminiscing herself over the entire situation. Only Guilford, still under observation in the traction ward, was absent.

"_And what did they find on this… other Earth?" she finally asked. _

_Darlton opened his mouth to speak, but a sharp intake of air through his superior's nose silenced him. _

"_Our shadow, Euphie, _that's_ what they found. A caricature of everything that's gone before. They found… the United States of America." _

Euphie's hair had nearly stood on end at that comment. Suddenly, much of what Cornelia had said to that woman, Diana, made sense: Calling her an American (a little-used and terribly archaic term for inhabitants of their continent or its southern neighbor), saying their nations shared the same origin, talking as if her people were a blasphemy against Britannia. Earth-2 was a world where Washington's Rebellion had succeeded, and the Empire was nonexistent. That was one of the first things Dame Monica and her fellow spies had found, and been the most pivotal. And it was all the reason the Emperor needed to cancel further investigations, and order the immediate assembly of a strike force.

Naturally, Cornelia had been one of the first Schneizel had called upon for the planned operation. Despite her initial shock, she'd given the operation her all, and within a few weeks' time, a series of raiding parties was assembled under her direction. As always, it consisted of Knightmare Frames, which technicians from Tarnhelm each retrofitted with a return module. A strike plan had been drawn up, using a handful of maps gathered during the spy mission. Once everything had been checked and rechecked, the Knightmares were organized into groups as small as a single soldier here and there, to a sizeable squadron. With a cursory order to proceed, rather than a wish of good luck, from His Majesty, they activated their Tarnhelms and disappeared, Operation: Wild Hunt in effect.

With backing from Darlton and Sir Gilbert, Cornelia had attacked a fort of some note in the Duchy – or "State" in the local lexicon – of Kentucky. She'd expected it to be a central command center for military operations, filled with important officials and sensitive materials whose loss would leave the American hierarchy in disarray. Instead, it had been a gold repository, filled with tons of bullion. That was the reason she'd been so surly when she returned. She'd signed onto the opening moves of a grand new campaign, and instead wound up nearly committing a glorified bank robbery.

When she'd heard that, Euphie had to excuse herself as she dashed out the room. Cornelia and her aide-de-camp naturally assumed it was to compose herself after hearing of that shameful incident. The reality was, Euphie had fled to a distant ladies' room and spent almost five minutes having a belly laugh. The mental image of her sister in a domino mask with a cigar clenched in her teeth, running towards a getaway car, a tommy gun in one hand while lugging along burlap sacks with pound symbols sewn onto them, was too much for her.

After returning, she'd learned it was not just Cornelia's disappointing assignment that left her with ill feelings about the operation. Additionally, she'd been distressed by their losses. All research had shown the Americans' military had made no moves towards anything akin to Knightmares, relying on infantry on foot, armored vehicles and air support as Britannia did until the successful invasion of Japan. Just like in that month-long war, it should have been no contest. And yet they'd lost nearly an entire squadron.

"_Well, describing it as a loss is perhaps overstating it," Cornelia muttered. "It was a strike force led up by that maniac, Sir Luciano." _

The self-styled Vampire of Britannia, whom Euphie had every intention of obeying Cornelia's demand that she not get within sight of, had led an attack upon the other world's city of Philadelphia. Their own Philadelphia was of some historical interest, having once been home to royalty, but was now a somewhat rundown port city teeming with blue collar workers. On Earth-2, however, it was a metropolis, a center of art, culture, and cuisine, befitting a nation's capital. Bradley had been the obvious choice to see it scourged from the Earth… or that one to be precise.

"_Bradley gave me this… look," Cornelia admitted reluctantly, "right before entering the _Percival_." _

_She disclosed nothing about what she thought it may have meant, but Euphemia still glanced at the door. She was certain that Guilford would burst through the door right then, trailed by doctors and nurses pleading with him to mind his injuries, loudly decrying the most-feared KOR for his dishonorable behavior. When nothing happened, she returned her attention to her sister. _

"_That was the last that I saw of him… of many in the squadron Father afforded him." She scrunched her nose in displeasure before continuing. "Philadelphia… like hogs before a butcher. He was having too much 'fun'," she spat out, "when their time ran out and they were supposed to return. So he told his squad to ignore the call to disengage and keep up the battle. A few, knowing that the whole operation was signed off by the Emperor Himself, wisely choice to return. Most did not." _

_A puzzled look came over her face for a moment. "The Valkyries stayed behind, of course, except for one of them. She used to work for me. What was her name?" _

"_I believe you are thinking of Lt. Marika Soresi, m'lady," Darlton said. _

"_Ah, yes. Her family's standing is already in dire straits thanks to her brother. She knew better than to defy an imperial order," her voice tinged with pride at her former subordinate. _

_Euphemia paused as she tried to remember. The name – Soresi – sounded familiar, and then there was the matter of family disgrace. It had something to do with the Purist Faction in Area 11, she could remember that much. They'd made a mess of things following the death of Clovis, and there was question as to whether they hadn't been attempting a coup. Quite a few noble houses both at home and abroad were scrambling for it. _

"_Anyway, that's the last anyone saw of them. We've no idea what happened. Then there was the pilot who reappeared dead." _

"_His Knightmare had been destroyed?" Euphemia exclaimed. _

"_Nothing like that, Your Highness," Darlton said. "He'd been sent to the other world's England to ascertain what precisely the Age of Revolution had wrought upon Britannia's motherland. According to the onboard computer, he'd arrived safely in London along the Thames River, and before long had sighted where the Tower of London was still standing. He was proceeding with little-to-no-resistance when his Sutherland simply powered down without warning. As near as can be figured, there was some sort of error in his electronics, possibly caused by the Tarnhelm, that caused the Yggdrasil drive to shut down. The fault corrected itself nearly sixteen minutes later and the systems reactivated, which also set off the return module. From the looks of things, however, he'd already shot himself with his sidearm rather than risk being caught and interrogated while his KMF was stalled out." _

_As Darlton told the story, Cornelia nodded slightly, pleased at the soldier's dedication to his duty, and defiance in the face of the enemy, as her former teacher and current second-in-command continued. _

"_Between the loss of Sir Luciano and his men, and the apparent tinkering the return modules still require, His Majesty suspended further incursions, during which time all concerned were sworn to secrecy and returned to standard duties." He was quiet for a moment, contemplating matters for a moment before he spoke up again. "It would seem that we have more preparations to make than we originally anticipated, however," he admitted. _

All of this gave Euphie a bit of an edge over the others convened for this war council. This included Lelouch for a change, but from his expression during the scientists' presentation, they were only confirming what he half-suspected already. She wondered how the rest of her siblings would react. Given her big sister's remarks just now, she was likely to be in for more surprises before they were adjourned.

**/ * CG * /**

"I'm… surprised by all of this," Odysseus said, finding his voice.

"I'm taken aback as well," she heard Lelouch mutter, shooting Cornelia a cross glance through hooded eyes.

"No, no, Lelouch, that's not what… well, Cornelia saying that… what I mean is…" Odysseus said, stumbling over his words.

"You mean you don't believe any of this nonsense either, brother?" Guinevere interrupted, finishing his sentence for him. As she said so, she gave her copy of Schneizel's report, plus its addendum on the Earth-2 expedition and Operation: Wild Hunt, a look as if it were an unhygienic-looking smudge on the table. "This is commoner 'summer movie' fantasy drivel of the lowest sort. What's _really_ going on, you two?" she finished as she divided her attention between Schneizel and Cornelia.

To Euphemia's right, her sister lurched forward in her chair so she could hit her elder sister with one of her best ever scowls. "I've seen the proof with my own eyes, Guinevere! And so have you for that matter. That light show wasn't to give those intruders cover as they jumped down that hole they made, I can assure you. The Tarnhelm Project is real, as is that twisted mirror-world I was taken to!"

"And you're a woman of your word, just like your hero," Carine muttered cattily.

Despite their differences at the moment, Lelouch stared daggers at her along with Cornelia. "Watch. Your. Tongue, Carine," he said, inferring that she was at risk of losing it. Carine simply glared back at him but, after a moment, snorted and averted her head. Euphie supposed she would later boast that she hadn't lost the argument, just refused to lower herself to a battle of wills with Lelouch.

Slowly turning his attention away from his "wicked stepsister," a nickname he used as child for Carine when in private, he began speaking again, civilly, to Schneizel. "I too have seen the evidence with my own eyes, and I don't doubt your veracity, Schneizel. But still… to my knowledge, teleportation has been limited to experiments in the lab, and even then just with subatomic particles – photons and ions and…" He waved a hand in a slight circling motion, either trying to think of another example or allowing his words to hang in the air.

"So on's?" a quiet voice offered.

A number of heads turned automatically to the commoner who'd spoken out of turn. Lelouch joined them but his features were infinitely more forgiving. In fact, he was happy to see her participating.

"As good as term as any, Nina," he said appreciatively to his friend, who went from looking as if she was about to duck behind Dr. Dorado to smiling helpfully. "I know such things from following your research and that of your great-grandfather. I never would have dreamed doing the same with macroscopic mass was possible, though. Certainly not in my lifetime."

"'Macrosocpic'?" Euphie muttered to herself as she started flipping through the condensed version of Tarnhelm's lab reports, trying to find what that meant. Her actions didn't escape her sister beside her.

"Fancy egghead talk for 'real-world scale,'" she said _sotto voce_ to her. "And if somebody tosses out 'Newtonian' too, it means the same." Evidently, while she couldn't follow all the science involved, some of the terms and their meaning had stuck with Cornelia.

Their little exchange hadn't gone unnoticed, as Schneizel began speaking again. "I know it all sounds like a bunch of mumbo-jumbo. I must admit my image of myself as knowledgeable in matters scientific took a beating whenever I received lab reports," he added with a self-deprecating smile. "But, as Lelouch says, this has been experimented upon at the subatomic level, one of the reasons young Miss Einstein was brought on board once I learned of her work.

"If I follow the ideas correctly, it all goes back to the idea that a physical system, such as an electron, exists partly in all of its theoretically possible states simultaneously, but will give a result corresponding to only one of those possible states when measured. What is it called again?"

"'Quantum superposition' I believe is the term, my lord," Kanon voiced from behind him.

"Ideas which are based upon the work of Nina's great-grandfather, Professor Albert Einstein," added Lelouch. "In addition to teaching physics at a university, he also worked upon it, over the years writing papers that expanded the laws originally set down by Sir Isaac Newton. Or am I understating him?"

This last bit was directed at Tarnhelm's junior researcher, who blushed rather adorably. Euphemia smiled warmly at her down-to-earth reactions. However, the girl's blush drew out something that made Euphie turn her head away. Not in disgust, as most would, but rather shame…

Cornelia, apparently, had not entirely exaggerated on how untamed the Areas could be. Nina and some of Lelouch's other classmates from the Ashford family's boarding school had gotten caught up in a hostage crisis engineered by the Japanese Liberation Front. After an extended time held at gunpoint, the girl's nerve had broken and she had some sort of a hysterical fit, an enraged terrorist pistol-whipping her severely across her face to settle her down.

This had scarred Nina horribly, mostly along her right cheek. Lelouch was paying for the cosmetic work necessary to correct the damage, but it had to come in increments as she healed between surgeries. It was nearly gone, but still, there was still some scar tissue, which she covered with a large band-aid so as not to offend. The patch she had on now was marketed as flesh tone-colored, and so of course was laughably obvious. This was at the best of times, and her face reddened as it was now really brought it out.

_And all the while, I'd been living it up here in Pendragon_, Euphemia thought, feeling guilty for her dilettante lifestyle. _My "big adventure" was ditching my escorts to go traipsing around the shops and parks alongside the common folk while Lelouch was fighting for his friends' lives. _

A quivering voice suddenly broke Euphie from her silent self-analysis as the subject of her thoughts started speaking.

"N-no, not at… at all, Your Highness," Nina said, her gaze shifting between the floor and a spot on the wall behind and just off to the side of her brother's head. "He taught physics, mostly, but when he had the time, he worked out equations for recombi—er, I mean, _reconciling_ the laws of classical muh-mechanics with the field of… the _laws_ of the electromagnetic field. Of course, it… it's taken awhile f-for people to warm to his ideas. He, uh, he came up with the idea that-that gravity pulled light, too. No one, nobody really believed it until aster… astronomers took photographs of the stars by the sun during as solar… _a_ solar e-eclipse seven years ago."

"'General relativity' as he called it I believe," Dr. Dorado voiced beside her.

Euphie just did catch Lelouch mutter to himself. "2010… at least that was a good year for _somebody_."

Shaking his head, he then continued aloud. "Originally, space and time were viewed by scientists as simple, unchanging, static ideas that objects existed in and events took place in. The professor, however, treated them as something real, tangible in a way. His work stated that the existence of matter and energy in space can change its shape. It can warp time, it can distort it."

"And rip open holes in it." Euphie tried to become smaller in her seat as her sister started speaking again, knowing fully that it wouldn't end well. "That's what your – 'classmate' is she? – has brought to the fold. Instead of ironing out the wrinkles like she was supposed to!"

Euphie heard Guinevere mutter beside her, "All a commoner's good for," but Cornelia missed it, carrying on as Lelouch's scowl deepened.

"The plan for Schneizel's program was to make teleportation real. To find a way to bypass three-dimensional space, getting from point A to point Z without having to move through the interceding points. We could have moved armies anywhere we wanted to, attack the capitals of Europe and China directly, without betraying any sign of our attacks." She gestured at Schneizel as she said so, then banged her fist down on tabletop in a way that – had they'd been in a cartoon – would have seen a small portion of it crumple under her blow. "And instead? We're under attack! On our borders and in our homeland alike. In less than a week we've lost nearly a fifth of our military capacity. _That_ has been the outcome of your interference, Lelouch!"

A dichotomy against his face, which had turned red in fury halfway through her rant, Lelouch's voice was deceptively calm. No one could miss the caustic undertone as he responded, though.

"No, Cornelia, this predicament we're all in is the result of _your_ interference. Yours and everyone else who engaged in this unwarranted display of force." He'd held up his copy of Schneizel's addendum report towards everyone and flicked through the pages quickly, allowing them to fan out, before dropping it. "Your actions were unsubtle and obvious; you were practically daring the Americans to do something about it… and they have! When an entire squadron didn't return, you had to know that some Tarnhelm devices would have to be recovered, examined, and replicated. We were already in a drawn-out fight over the Atlantic, and now we're on the cusp of another war, a war with no borders to patrol, no no-man's-land too dangerous for either side to cross, and no guarantee of success!"

Still frowning at her sister, Lelouch then slumped back in his seat. He was silent for a moment before, taking a deep breath, he started again, speaking calmly this time. "We… we've attacked a whole other planet. _We_, we were the ones who learned about them; they did not learn about us. But now they do know. We… no—_you_, Cornelia, have antagonized a people, a culture we don't entirely understand. You gave them a black eye, and in return they've plucked out one of ours."

He fell silent again, his gaze falling away from Cornelia as he picked up the reports before him again and started leafing through them. Suddenly, he muttered, "You should have said no, damn it."

With a snort, Cornelia began to respond, not unexpectedly by saying that she was a soldier and obeyed orders, although Euphie could tell from her tone of voice she was going to bring up Lelouch's disobedience back in Africa. Her words were cut off as Lelouch's head suddenly shot back up.

"It wasn't you I was speaking to, Cornelia," he said heatedly, then turned towards Schneizel. "I was talking to you."

The Second Prince brought a hand up on his collar bone, his expression betraying a hint of surprise. Euphie, and quite a few others gathered, half-expected him to say "_Moi_?"

"You were already Chancellor when I was exiled, Schneizel, and for the past five years you've been practically running the Empire for Father," Lelouch continued, his voice rising. "You know better than anyone else here what state the economy is in, of our military capacity, and that of the Europeans and the Chinese. So if anyone in the world was in a position to tell the Emperor that declaring a war – and against an _entire planet_, for that matter – was a bad idea, it was you. And you should have! We didn't need yet another front to fight upon, especially with a people that were of no threat to us whatsoever! _They didn't even know we existed!_"

And with that he collapsed back into his seat again, returning to the reports in his hands. Euphie noticed it seemed it was more for something to look at instead of looking at anyone else. The thought occurred that it wasn't that he felt embarrassment, but rather it was he felt too sickened to look them in the eye. "You… just should have said no," he quietly reiterated.

For a moment, there was silence, but then Earl Maldini started speaking in defense of the White Prince. "With respect, Your Highness," he began, although his voice carried only the nominal respect a royal was due, "but that is unlikely to have made a difference."

"I fail to see how it possibly could have made things worse," Lelouch grumbled back.

"In any event," Kanon continued unabated, "His Majesty would have still ordered the expedition mounted, followed by Operation: Wild Hunt, whilst the Chancellor would almost certainly been dismissed from his duties and thereafter placed under house arrest for his defiance."

"A situation from which he would have been recalled by us, and greeted with any number of hearty backslaps for the callous disregard he was shown, after the Americans had still retaliated and _still_ captured the Emperor," Lelouch rejoined somewhat peevishly, his eyes never leaving the papers before him.

"The location of His Majesty still has not been positively pro—"

"_And_ his hands would have been clean of this… snafu," Lelouch interrupted him.

"Unlike mine?" Cornelia asked, heatedly.

"Yes, of course, Cornelia," he said in utter disgust.

"I go where I am ordered, Lelouch. I'm a professional soldier, unlike you—"

"—ignored the dangers! How 'professional' is—?"

"The loss of face you caused me—"

"You couldn't leap at the opportunity Father was handing out fast enough—"

"—complete disregard you had for my seniority—"

"—throw your men at the enemy until something breaks—"

"Lelouch, this situation called for—"

"—you _are_ the situation, Cornelia!"

"_Enough!_"

Lelouch and Cornelia's argument stopped dead with that. Euphemia started to look around to see who had shrieked, part of her wishing to thank them, but then got distracted.

_Why is the table suddenly thigh-high to me?_ she thought as she noticed the tabletop was much lower than it was a second before. Looking around, she saw where everyone's chairs had suddenly gotten shorter too, as everyone else was still sitting at chest-height with the tabletop. They were also staring at her. _Do they think it's something _I_ did? Emil's the practical joker, not me._

"Euphie!"

It was a harsh whisper and, looking down at her side, saw Big Sister looking up at her, her face ashen yet with an expression of annoyance.

_Oh, yes. I was the one yelling just now,_ she realized. She then felt a sharp tug on her skirt.

"Euphie!" Cornelia repeated herself, not so quietly this time.

For a moment, Euphemia was silent as she twitched, almost sitting back down again as she was being motioned to. Then she grabbed skirt and yanked it free from her sister's hand.

"What's happened to you two?" she demanded to know, her eyes zipping back and forth between her sister and Lelouch. "We were as close as if we'd shared the same mother, but now look at us! We're no better than…" Her voice trailed off as she turned and waved her hand noncommittally at the rest down the conference table.

Guinevere picked up on what she was saying, and immediately shot a death-glare at her. "Have you forgotten to whom you are speaking, Princess Euphemia?" she hissed out.

"Yes, sister," she answered, sadly shaking her head. "I know exactly who I'm speaking to… a big nobody trading in on her crown!" As everyone gasped, she looked up, an accusatory expression aimed at everyone gathered at the table. "How many here have done _anything_ to earn their pride, to earn their positions? Who amongst you do not automatically bank on their noble house's name, who own everything to the simple fact that they were fortunate enough to be born a child of the Emperor?"

She let her question hang in the air before continuing. Taking the moment to take in their reactions, she saw a few blank stares, but mostly shock and outrage. A few had the presence of mind to look guilty, but even those had a tinge of anger born of denial. Deciding they'd had enough time, she answered her own question.

"None of you have… and, frankly, neither have I. Ultimately, we're all a bunch of spoiled, self-serving freeloaders. We live off the riches gathered either by our armies in foreign lands, or out of the hands of our people. Our only interests are fulfilling our petty little desires."

Frowning, she turned to her closest siblings, who were staring at her as much as anyone. "You… you're different, or supposed to be. Vanguards of the Empire, all of you. But you've changed since we were children, I see that now."

Pointing at them each in turn, she continued. "Cornelia, you're my big sister, and I'll love you always. You're probably one of the best soldiers that have ever lived. You've fought and bled along with your men, and cried for their loss. Others may call you the Witch of Britannia, but I know the real you.

"Unfortunately," she added after a moment's pause, "because of that I've seen you change. Oh, you're not a bloodthirsty monster like Carine or Sir Luciano…"

"Hey!"

"… but you are obstinate. You've become intolerant of contradiction, and violent. You're unwilling to listen to reason, and it's not because you're strong, it's because you're afraid. Afraid of looking weak even for a moment. And so you react to every - and I do mean _every_ – challenge like it's a stubborn nail that you just have to hammer until it finally goes in. There's no place for people like you… not outside of a war zone at any rate. And considering we're slowly taking the entire world, that means some day there won't be a place for you at all!"

Euphemia then turned away, leaving Cornelia speechless. She just sat there, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, as Euphie began letting into her half-brothers.

"Lelouch, you're brilliant, and the way you've run Area 11 speaks of how Britannia needs to rule if it is to hold onto all it has gained," she said sincerely, thinking of the brave way he stood up for innocent civilians, both Britannians and the native peoples, against violence and corruption. That and his employment of an Honorary Britannian as one of his personal knights had given her hope.

She had ideas for Areas to have special administrated regions in which designations like Number, Honorary Britannian, or commoner weren't thrust upon people. It was a step towards equality among non-royals that she felt would say day be needed, both to maintain the peace and for the Empire to realize its anthem's declaration as a land of truth and hope. She'd kept these a secret, fearing no one would listen, much less help develop them, until Lelouch returned. But...

"You're headstrong, too. And arrogant, and," she stopped and shook her head, "I'm not sure if you're insensitive or just oblivious. Either way, you've thrown up walls around yourself and won't let anyone in. We've different mothers, but you and I are still blood, and you won't let even me in." She stopped for a moment as Lelouch reacted as if he'd been slapped, but then plowed on. "You won't trust anyone, and because of that you insist on being in control, of making _all_ the decisions, of shouldering all the burden. That kind of pressure always breaks someone sooner or later, even you. And by then you'll have either driven everyone away, or they'll have turned against you."

Finally, she turned to Schneizel, you looked at her expectantly, but also a tad warily.

"Big brother Schneizel, something's happened to you, too. Otherwise we wouldn't be in this situation."

Rather than looking insulted or crestfallen, Schneizel simply cocked an eyebrow. He settled back into his chair, his face serene as he awaited the rest of what she had on her mind.

"You're a loyal subject of the Crown, and easily one of the most astute and accomplished of us here," Euphemia continued. "And for that His Majesty entrusted you with handling the duties of the Empire for him." She paused for a moment at this, thinking about her father's otherwise lack of responsibility in handling the affairs of state, but passed up talking about it.

"But part of being loyal – whether to a friend or to an entire nation – is to speak up when you think a poor decision is being made. For both of these reasons, duty to the Empire and loyalty to our father, you should have said no. He may have listened, or he may not have. But we'll never know now… you had an opportunity to make a difference and you threw it away. And as such, you failed everyone… including yourself."

One could have heard a pin drop as Euphemia sat down again. It was obvious that Cornelia was silently fuming, but also taken aback by her younger sister's observation of her behavior. Lelouch's focus was again upon the papers in his hands, but now it was clear he was too ashamed to meet Euphie's gaze. Schneizel simply steepled his hands and looked over them; whether he was studying Euphie or gazing off into space as he considered her words, she couldn't tell. Most of the royal court sat quietly, either chastened by her too, or simply embarrassed by her display. A few of the more stubborn royal siblings, Carine among them naturally, were trying to make her burst into flames with their minds.

Whatever anyone was thinking, it was interrupted by applause, as two hands clapped together slowly but steadily. Whatever her feelings at the moment, Cornelia looked fit to read someone the riot act for sarcasticlapping at her sister, when she noticed the one clapping was Odysseus. And the look on his face…

He was proud!

"Thank you, Euphemia," he said, continuing with his solo ovation as he stood from his seat. "You've said precisely what needed to be said, and no one was willing to."

Returning his hands to his sides, his usually mild-mannered features took on a disapproving look as he turned to his fellow royals. It gave him an air of actually being Emperor Charles' firstborn for once, and most that would have usually spoken up instead held their tongues.

"The other day, I spoke about how we were facing an unprecedented danger, how our enemies would soon see opportunity to strike back, and that we had a responsibility to the people to find a solution. We were… interrupted, but today we assembled together for those same reasons. In fact, those same reasons doubled. And how have we responded? By making accusations and volleying recriminations at each other."

Looking up, he then gestured magnanimously towards Dr. Dorado, Nina (standing right behind the Honorary Britannian like a child using a parent to hide from a stranger), and the other scientists from Tarnhelm, who'd stood stock-still throughout the last few minutes' verbal barrage. "And in front of guests, too. Assembled here to help give us clarity, instead we've made them a forced audience to our childish theatrics." With a sad bow of his head, he then spoke directly to them, "My apologies for our unseemly display, ladies and gentlemen."

Returning his attention to his younger siblings, he fixed the lot of them with a disappointed frown. "This is supposed to have been a meeting to figure out what is going on and how best to handle matters, and instead it's become one huge argument. We are facing a crisis, far larger than our petty squabbles; that is something we should all have the wits to see, and only Euphemia has been brave enough to take us to task for it."

And with that, Odysseus sat stiffly back down, sagely stating that there would be no more derisive, unconstructive criticism. From here on out, he ordered, they would focus on discussing who, what, when, where, and why of the problem, and how to correct it. As for anything else, what little worth saying had been said, so there was no point in continuing it. Euphie smiled at that, glad to see she hadn't made a spectacle of herself for nothing.

"We'll talk about this later," she suddenly heard in a harsh whisper. Turning her head slightly, she saw Cornelia giving her a look out of the corner of her eye, a stern look that promised a reckoning for the way she'd been spoken to. But her action hadn't gone unnoticed.

"No, you won't," the First Prince shot back, his tone flat but commanding. "No more hammering this evening, Cornelia."

Euphie heard Cornelia make a small squeak out of the back of her throat, a sound more typically coming from herself. They both gave their eldest brother a look of shock – either for intruding on family business or for the reversal in his manners – before settling back into their chairs, Cornelia allowing the matter to lie still for the moment.

"Now, then," Odysseus began, giving the meeting a fresh start. "The how and the why and the who, as I said. I think we're all having a bit of trouble following the precise science, so if we could go back a bit, would you be so kind to explain what is occurring – the act rather than the math, if you will – and how we've made contact?" he asked the Tarnhelm personnel.

There was a brief hubbub as the scientists whispered amongst themselves. Euphie got the feeling they'd been promised just to serve as voices for the PowerPoint presentation, after which they would leave. Making extemporized talk with the royal family had not been part of their equations.

"Nina," Lelouch called out, taking the bull by the horns. "How did we wind up going to another reality, when the idea was to leapfrog over space on our own world?"

Sadly, the poor thing was still useless speaking to a large group. She stopped and started ten times in less than a minute, her eyes darting about the room as her soft, borderline mutter of a speaking voice only emphasized her rising embarrassment. A few couldn't help giggling… assuming they even tried.

Next to her, Euphie heard Guinevere mutter to herself, "'Commoners were born to serve'," a bit of wisdom she'd inherited from her mother.

"Nina," Lelouch spoke again, his voice calm but still forceful. "Speak to me, Nina. Tell _me_ how teleportation was intended to work, and how this has happened instead."

The giggles instantly stopped as princes and princesses shot their unwelcome, back-from-the-dead prince angry looks, infuriated that he'd basically told this commoner to ignore them. A rude way to do things, but it worked, as Nina's voice, still low but now speaking consistently, began again, her eyes focused on her former schoolmate.

"Well, as been said, teleportation is moving from one place to another without occupying the space in-between. And my great-grandfather offered theories that space and time can be… molded, basically. He imagined that space and time could be altered metrically, forming a shortcut from one point to another. The idea was called the Rosen-Einstein conduit effect, and Dr. Dorado had some ideas on how to make it really happen. That was what Project: Tarnhelm was trying to do."

Suddenly, Nina looked away, continuing but no longer maintaining eye contact with Lelouch. For a moment, Euphie thought to speak up but decided not to. So many of her siblings held the Tarnhelm Project and its staff responsible for the current crisis, particularly Nina and Dr. Dorado. Nina because it was her and her forebear's work that had somehow jumbled thing, and Dorado because… well, "Numbers were born to suffer" as Guinevere would put it. That was precisely what he was and all that he could be in their eyes, no matter his accomplishments and who his patron was.

"The particles Dr. Dorado worked with caused a quantum fissure effect, enveloping any mass that they were centered on, from just a rock, a person, or an entire Knightmare, and shunting them through the shortcut. My ancestor's work helped fill up the holes in the process, but we used too much of them, I guess," she admitted. "The process bent time and space _too_ much. The equations for stabilizing the exit point went beyond our world to a parallel one."

Nina was silent after this, resulting in a brief pause before one of the other scientists stepped forward, taking up the slack. He was a bespectacled man of average height, with thinning hair and a somewhat over-sized cranium. Even from a distance, Euphie could tell his teeth were stained by nicotine as he talked. "Er, Professor Hugh Everett, my lords and ladies" he said with a bow in way of introduction. "I'm, uh, a late addition to the program, following the initial return module experiments. I was brought on because it was I who formally proposed the idea of parallel worlds in my thesis paper on interpreting quantum mechanics, 'The Theory of the Universal Wave-function'."

Euphie, along with most of his audience, answered with blank stares. Deciding to put aside any bravado in lieu of explanations, the professor began again.

"The many-worlds interpretation, as is the popular name for the theory, holds that all possible histories are real, having their own Earth in which the differing actions and their consequences are real, as opposed to being a hypothetical 'what if?' scenario. Effectively, anything that could happen _does_ happen, just within its own separate reality."

"Ah," interrupted William, nodding to himself. "Less sad are Shakespeare's words of tongue or pen; your parallel worlds provide what might have been." He then smirked, so full of himself as ever when he had a chance to not just utilize one of his idol's quotes, but make up a line of poetry himself.

"Whittier," said Lelouch.

"Thank you, brother," William responded, smugly. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"Not 'witty', William," Lelouch began again, his voice tinged with exasperation. "I said 'Whittier'. It was John Greenleaf Whittier you were referencing just now, _not_ Shakespeare." He then asked Everett to continue about the nature of parallel worlds as William tried hard not to face-palm himself, mortified over either getting his quotes mixed up or having to be corrected by his lower-born brother.

"Thank you, Your Highness," the professor said politely, giving the sputtering 15th Prince a nervous glance. "Um, well, 'parallel worlds' is actually something of a misnomer." As he spoke, he held up his hands and, with his forefingers, drew two vertical lines next to one another in the air. "We don't believe these realities are coexisting, replicating one another's history precisely until randomly acting different at some point. No. A more accurate term would be 'divergent worlds'."

Putting his fingers together, Everett then started drawing a single imaginary line this time. "If it helps, imagine a cross between a historical timeline and a genealogical chart. The world is singular, for awhile, but then along comes a decision, a choice, an event point as we call it, any occasion where there's more than one option for consequences of the event. Rather than remain linear, we now have two worlds, amoeba-ishly split so that each possibility may occur." As he said so, Everett took his finger apart, continuing to draw his line but now in separate directions, forming an imaginary "Y" in the air. Returning his hands to his sides, he continued speaking to the assembled court. "I know that it sounds preposterous, but recent events show that it does happen. It's happening now even as we speak. Someone, somewhere, is experiencing an event point, and entire worlds – separate and different but equal – are being created because of that event."

_Every decision? How much is "every"?_ Euphie wondered, raising her hand, something she was taught to do even though she was educated by private tutors.

"Er, yes, Your Highness?" asked the professor, surprised that a member of royalty would wait for permission rather than just speak up.

Euphie then lowered her hand, hearing Cornelia grumble, "So, you do remember your manners, after all," behind her. Ignoring her, she asked the professor her question.

"Professor Everett, when you say _every_ event point, do you mean 'every-every' or 'decisions of consequence-every'?"

"Well, that's a good question," the professor said, happy to see one of the royals getting into the spirit of things. "Taking into consideration the number of choices one makes in a single day, the notion that one is responsible for creating an entirely separate world seems ridiculous. It seems unwieldy, and a gross violation of the conservation of energy as near-infinite amounts of new matter are generated by new Earths practically every moment. Add in the fact that it's every person on Earth doing this, and been so since the dawn of time…" He let the idea hang in the air as he shrugged his shoulders. "But yes, every option for a scenario is played out thanks to these divergent worlds."

Everyone looked incredulous at the idea, and Euphemia couldn't help but feel the same way. "But professor, choosing between marmalade, apricot preserves, or raspberry jam to go with my morning toast… that hardly seems the sort of thing worlds are sculpted from."

Her question left Professor Everett tongue-tied, to which Dr. Dorado stepped up to the plate, smoothing out his necktie as he collected his thoughts. Out of the corner of her eye, Euphie noticed Schneizel frown ever so slightly, while Kanon seemed to catch his breath.

"Science, Your Highness, holds that if one backtracks a hurricane far enough, one comes across a butterfly flapping its wings on the other side of the planet. What may seem trivial at the moment may set a course that holds major consequences later on. To use your example, if you choose the jam, you carry on the rest of the day as you normally would. The marmalade, however, gives you a sugar rush, changing your mood and pace ever so slightly from how you would have acted otherwise. Greater still, the apricot preserves may be a bit off or disagree with something you ate earlier, causing you indigestion which the jam and the marmalade would not have. In any event, there are differences in how your activities throughout the day unfold, which reflect upon the people around you and the events that transpire due to your actions. The result, whether it takes a day, a century, or a thousand years, is a version of the Earth, very different from the other, all stemming from which choice you made."

Finished, Dorado stepped back, apparently not noticing as Everett whispered his thanks to him. Far away, Kanon visibly relaxed while composure returned to Schneizel's face. Euphie just barely noticed this as she reviewed the allegory in her head, before smiling and nodding her head at the Honorary Britannian. "That… makes a lot of sense, doctor."

The doctor inclined his head towards her in recognition of her praise, but there was no rest for the wicked.

"And you're certain that we are dealing with an entirely different world?" asked Guinevere, her tone still expressing doubt over the whole matter.

"Yes, sister, we are," Schneizel answered for Dorado. Guinevere may be willing to browbeat the Honorary Britannian, but her younger but nevertheless influential brother was another thing. "As with reverse-engineering a strange device once we found out what it does, we were able to learn a lot of the nature of these divergent worlds once we realized that's what we were making contact with. What was it that you found when samples taken from Earth-2 were studied, Professor Everett?"

The balding man stepped forward again. "Matter that we acquired from the other world – the plant and insect life our test animal brought back, for example – was tested up, down, and center. Every way possible and a few we came up with along the way. And what we found was the matter it was composed of was asynchronous with matter on our world. Not in and of itself dangerous or toxic, mind you, just composed ever so slightly different."

"How so?"

Taking his glasses off, Everett started polishing them as he thought. Euphemia suppressed a giggle, as he looked the very picture of the scientist from a science fiction movie who'd figured out what's _really_ going on.

"As you said, Your Highness, most of what we know now is based on what we figured out since we realized what we were actually doing. Studying Earth-2 matter on a subatomic level, we've found what we call the 'quantum signature'. The idea we've bandied about the lab is that all matter in the universe resonates on a quantum level, very precisely. This basically acts as a marker to distinct divergent worlds, but it may be more important than that. It could very well be the basic foundation of existence."

"Since you discovered this difference in your analysis of matter brought here, I take it that traversing from world to world does not change that 'signature', correct?" asked Lelouch.

"Quite correct, Your Highness," Everett said appreciatively, clearly glad someone was following the subject material. "Due to the momentary fissure that Miss Einstein mentioned, matter is placed in a mild state of quantum flux, shifting it to another reality, but its own signature remains the same. In point of fact, if – as I said – it's pivotal to existence, then it may be impossible to change the quantum signature of matter anyway."

"Have you even tried?" asked Carine peevishly.

"Er, no, Your Highness."

Clearly unsatisfied, the bloodthirsty princess opined that perhaps they should. "Scrambling their signatures would give us a good weapon against these E-Two freaks," she observed.

"Carine, he said it's a fundamental fact of existence itself," Lelouch said, throwing in his own two pence. "Based on that, trying to fiddle with the quantum signature of matter, alien or not, may be… another… bad idea."

Euphie took in at Carine's sour expression, as she remembered that same phrase being just a few minutes ago. Still, she wasn't going to let the issue drop without having the last word in. "So, basically, this little nugget of information is useless, then?"

"Er, as a weapon? Yes, Your Highness," Everett said, nervously, the character of this princess evident even if this was the first time he'd seen or even heard of her. "This universal resonance keeps the divergent words separate, and not overlapping one another, a dangerous phenomenon if it were to occur, indeed. Furthermore, knowledge of the quantum signature is the only confirmed means of knowing what world one is on, your own or a divergent one. Some are obviously different, while others are so minutely different a man could spend his entire life on one and never realize he hadn't return to his home reality."

Lelough leaned forward in his chair at this, clasping his hands together. "Which we can all tell is not the case with Earth-2, whose history long ago branched away from our own. Obvious, this world's event point was during Washington's Rebellion, specifically when Benjamin Franklin was bribed, or rather refused to be."

While basically in agreement, Lelouch's supposition was met by other, more cynical views on the change in history of the other world. "Or it wasn't enough for him," someone said, while a princess whose name Euphie didn't know offhand suggested that the Duke of Britannia simply hadn't gotten to him in time while Franklin was serving as General Washington's envoy to France.

As people spoke, Euphemia flipped through Schneizel's addendum on Earth-2 and what little they'd gathered about the American republic. She came across the money section just as someone voiced the possibility that Franklin had betrayed Washington – "as he was supposed to" – but the effort failed, after which he was able to cover his tracks just in time.

"He must have covered them amazingly well for this to happen," Euphie said, as she held up her copy. It showed off the page dedicated to analyzing the monetary note designated for one hundred dollars (however much that translated into pounds), which proudly carried on one side a miniature portrait of the man they knew as Washington's betrayer, a true Britannian patriot, and the discoverer of electricity.

"Heh," Lelouch chuckled. "And right on the other side is the legislative hall in Philadelphia where the Continental Congress signed their manifesto against Good King George's colonial rule. Maybe Franklin wanted more, maybe he just didn't receive the offer in time. Or maybe he was just made of sterner stuff in their world," he added sardonically.

He waved all the other cries made against him by the assembled royals, all except Euphie's own admonishment. "I'm not trying to start another argument, Euphie. I'm just noting, like Schneizel's idea men, that small things lead up to big things. Here, something small happened in Earl Franklin's life, and as such he did not wind up an earl. He observed his own advice that he and his fellow mutineers would hang separately if they did not risk being hanged together… and as a result, fewer did."

"You spend much of your time reading up on traitors, Lelouch?" Guinevere sniped at him, unmindful of Odysseus' earlier rebuke.

"The past is over and done with, Guinevere," he responded evenly. "But it's where today is born from, so one should be mindful of it. As for my opinion on, in this case, the would-be Earl, if one studies his previous behavior in life, then it was accepting the Duke's offer as he did in our world that was contradictive to his nature."

Stopping to allow the resultant taunts to settle down, he continued with his explanation. "Benjamin Franklin routinely protested the Stamp Act and other trade restrictions handed down by the pre-Britannian government in London, for which he was decried and insulted by loyalists. An offer for land and a title does not always sooth such wounds to one's honor. Furthermore, even as a boy he was a habitual dissenter when he felt he had a cause. The entire reason he moved to Philadelphia in the first place was that he was fleeing his unappreciative brother, a journalist who got upset when he realized articles contributed by an anonymous widow were actually written by Benjamin, whose work he'd refused to publish earlier. Franklin broke his apprenticeship doing that, a heady thing back in those days."

Lelouch stopped for a moment, as if contemplating matters. "When you stop to consider these and other events of his life, and how they reflect upon his nature, then Benjamin turning upon Washington and his fellow Congressmen is actually the uncharacteristic act." Lelouch suddenly looked up and fixed Euphie with a look. "About as likely as Euphemia here going on a shooting spree." As he said that, he moved his hand to his right eye, and rubbed it with his forefingers. "Sorry… eyelash tickle," he offered quietly.

At the suggestion, a chill went up Euphemia's back, oddly feeling as though someone had walked over her grave. "Lelouch, could you have _pleased_ thought of something less gruesome?" she asked.

Lelouch himself had made a face at his own suggestion. Realizing he'd been spoken to, he apologized, stating he just wanted to give an extremely pointed example.

"Moving along," Odysseus said, his voice soothing any nerves frayed by the little exchange. "Whether by Earl Franklin himself, or some odd twist of fate earlier, the upshot is, as observed, a society founded in Washingtonian politics, not the monarchy and the aristocracy brought over by our English forebears and their cousins from the continent, correct?"

"Yes, brother," Schenizel said respectfully. "The United States operates by a system not unlike the Euro Ultra-union, albeit a federation of provinces, or 'states,' rather than separate kingdoms and countries. Volunteering citizens are elected by general consensus to posts of varying levels of powers. The power structure extends from the local level of cities and townships, to state level, and finally the federal level, where government posts and agencies have powers that span the entire federation.

"The precise mechanics and power structure of the federal government was a matter still being researched when His Majesty called an end to the expeditions. News articles suggest a powerful legislative body not unlike the Central Hemicycle in Europe, which had inherited the name of 'Congress'. This body seems to be divided into two houses not unlike our Parliament—"

"What?! Why? I wouldn't think Washington's government would have allowed for any nobles in their society," Odysseus asked.

Showing no sign of annoyance at being interrupted, Schneizel stopped to admit that it was something he and his intelligence analysts wondered about, too. "Neither house is composed of inherited positions like our own House of Lords, we noticed, so why bother?" Posting to either house, he went on, was via election and therefore both were essentially an Imperial Senate (or "House of Commons" as was called in the olden days, and which some nobles preferred to use in private).

Getting back on track, Schneizel explained that, while the Congress was no doubt influential both as a body and as separate individuals, most of the country focused upon an executive officer known as "The President". This officer appeared to fulfill a role similar to being chancellor or, despite being separate from the Congress, a prime minister. "In that he gets all the attention, good or bad, leaving the Congress to do all the work evidently," he explained, receiving a small round of chuckles. "Based on discussion in newspapers and political displays Dame Monica and her expedition saw, either an election year for the President's post is forthcoming, or there is the possibility of a call for a vote of no confidence in the current one."

"So, to make a long story short, they're the Ultra-union, but here on _our_ land." Euphie blinked as she turned to the speaker, which was Prince Oscar. "Oscar of the Red-Nose," some called him behind his back for his tendency to imbibe. He'd been silent the entire time and, knowing his habits, she was somewhat surprised to see he hadn't fallen asleep in his chair.

"Mmm, regarding their political structure, I suppose that's a sound comparison," Schneizel admitted. "Based on observations, which admittedly we don't have too much of, American society and culture is more a hodgepodge of Europe and our own. They've no royalty, although the commoners are similarly enamored with the escapades of celebrities and old money families. Their economy is capitalistic, and encourages conspicuous consumption, such as our own. Automobiles, electronics, entertainment, and other forms and methods of leisure time are heavily stressed by advertisement, although investing or at least safeguarding their money is also prevalent. The level of their technology is equivalent to our own, despite the fact they're still dependent upon fossil fuels, and are only experimenting in solar energy and the like. For some odd reason, they haven't discovered Sakuradite on their world yet."

"Maybe they're not smart enough to know what to do with it," Guinevere sneered.

"Or perhaps," Euphie said wonderingly, "for some odd reason, it doesn't even exist there." Noticing the looks this earned him, she shrugged back meekly. "Just saying," was all she could think to offer.

"As for their social makeup," Schneizel continued, "Anglo-Saxon and other Caucasian races are nominally the chief ethnicity, although races from around the world mix freely in their society, which is more apparent in metropolitan areas. Britannian, or rather English, is the official language, although other languages, including those on the blacklist, are used publicly without punishment. There is no Number system, and we saw no sign of slavery being practiced. They portray themselves as an egalitarian society with opportunities for class mobility, and denying social boundaries based upon religious beliefs, racial identity…" He stopped suddenly, and shrugged. "Or, that is their intention at any rate. Subtle and not-so-subtle worried looks at individuals based on telltale ethnic features are not unknown. People descended from Arabic territories in particular were occasionally viewed with trepidation if not outright suspicion."

"They're at war with the – oops! I mean, _a_ Middle East Federation, too?" Euphie asked him.

"More or less," Cornelia said, mild appreciation reflected in her voice as they moved onto a topic she was versed in. "The materials brought back from Earth-2 did not always go into detail; often, news articles referenced events that must be common knowledge on their world. Evidently, still within the public conscious are a series of coordinated terrorist attacks that occurred several years ago…"

She suddenly stopped talking, her expression vaguely pained, and Euphie knew she was momentarily distracted by thoughts of their own terrorist attack from years before. She knew this as her own thoughts strayed towards the death of Lady Marianne. Stealing a glance at Lelouch, she only saw the stoic look on his face, waiting for Cornelia to finish her explanation.

"We only have a date on which the attacks occurred," she said, starting again, "and that they were concentrated on two places, named 'The Pentagon' and 'The World Trade Center'. The name of the latter makes me think it may have been a variation of the J.L.F.'s attack upon the summit for Sakuradite allocation a few months ago."

At that, Euphemia looked back at Nina Einstein, as did Lelouch, their eyes briefly making contact as they both turned their heads. Obviously, her sister's remark brought up old fears, as the girl's composition trembled a bit, her head lowered as she absently rubbed the band-aid on her face. Fortunately, making a rather audible swallow, she brought her head back up after a moment, balling up her courage to see the rest of the meeting through without making a scene.

Next to her, Euphie heard Cornelia continue, and picked up the remainder of her talk on the terrorists' actions and America's response. Whatever the details of the attacks were, they resulted in a series of military actions which have engulfed two major Middle Eastern countries suspected of having a hand in the attacks. The Americans basically toppled the two nations' governments, but otherwise their war has stagnated due to long-term guerilla action by the countries' former armies, as well as rebellious civilians either still loyal to the old regimes or simply objecting to a foreign presence on their land. The American government had been taking sharp criticism for this, both by other governments, including its supposed allies, as well as its own peoples, whom Cornelia criticized as not having the same stomach for war as Britannians do.

"What was the response of the other M.E.F. countries?" Lelouch asked her, as his attention returned from his friend.

Cornelia responded evenly to the poignant question. "Public condemnation but no real military assistance that we can tell to" – she stopped to look at her notes – "Afghanistan and Iraq. In fact, there is no Middle East Federation to begin with. Nor is there a Chinese Federation, and technically, no Euro Ultra-union."

"What does 'technically' mean?" someone asked.

Cornelia's gaze shifted, her expression questioning, to Schneizel, who recognized the signal to take up the subject matter. "The various nations of Europe remain sovereign states, responsible for their own affairs. The closest thing to the Ultra-union is the European Union, which is little more an economic and political association, keeping the stock market even while also providing a platform for politic discourse. Hardly a power bloc like the E.U. we are familiar with."

"The United States is both a party to and a host for an international version of the same which calls itself the United Nations," Kanon added behind him.

The mention of this reminded Euphie of one of Cornelia's accusations, something about the American ambassador's people allowed their enemies onto their land to make deals. _Well, that answers that question,_ she thought.

"As for Asia, China is a socialist state formally known as the People's Republic of China," Schneizel continued. "It covers most of mainland Asia, but is still smaller than the Federation and does not exercise the same level of power. Most Asian regions remain separate political entities, even those that also have communist regimes and may or may not be client governments of China. All in all, the superstates we're familiar with do not exist on Earth-2, where the numerous nations remain rather divided. Not necessarily in conflict, mind you, but they value their independence, and have no expansionist empire such as ourselves to inspire strong alliances."

"What status is the American government?" "Are they unstable at the moment?" Castor and Pollux asked, plainly looking for cracks in the other world's armor, particularly the Empire's counterpart.

"No, but that's not impossible," he said guardedly. "From what we have gathered, the United States' recent history has been… laborious. With the federal government distracted by the drawn out war against the terrorists' sponsor nations, a number of business entities decided that while the cat was away, the mice would play. Indications are that some corporations effectively swindled their stockholders by falsely reporting their gains and losses. Furthermore, the various banking cartels have played fast and loose with their investors' money, gambling on land speculation and the housing market. This has had widespread repercussions on all corporate and financial entities, causing a sharp economic depression. The fact that few of the top executives of these groups are being taken to task for their actions, has led to civilian outcry. In fact, the government has gone into debt giving them _more_ money in the hopes of stabilizing the economy."

Euphemia nearly bolted out of her seat as Guinevere suddenly let loose a loud cackle, the hand she held daintily over her mouth doing nothing to dampen her ear-piercing shriek of a laugh. "The great and powerful Americans, brought low by the money-lenders!" she stopped to gasp out between breaths before she started laughing again.

"And if wars were fought by people trying to bash one another's heads in with their coin purses, that would mean something," Cornelia rejoined angrily, but went unnoticed, her elder sister far too pleased by Schneizel's revelation on the Empire's mirror opposite. Deciding she could ignore people too, Euphie reopened Schneizel's report…

**/ * CG * /**

The notion of money caused Euphemia to turn to the section concerning the United States' monetary system. The Federal Reserve Notes – as was the title across the top of what was believed to be the front of each bill – were of dollar amounts ranging from just one to one hundred. These samples were the most commonly used bills, the report noted, with perhaps larger denominations in circulation. While there was no indication of the existence of notes equivalent to "Giants" or "Titans," as were nicknamed the million-pound notes once used by banks for massive transactions, there was no reason to believe they had not existed at some point.

More so than other sections of the report, this section was filled with pictures, specifically photocopies of the paper money and coins brought back by the expedition. The report explained that the expedition's members had been supplied with forged credit cards designed to give false returns when used, a common piece of equipment for modern spies. This had allowed them to make purchases, such as paying for meals or going into places that charged for entrance. That being said, they were also provided with some minor gems and jewelry which they sold at pawn shops. This was in case they needed cash money, but basically the intent was to acquire samples of American currency for cultural analysis.

_I bet Schneizel wished Clovis was still with us when that happened,_ Euphie thought sadly as she looks at the pictures of paper bills and coins of different sizes and illustrations. In addition to his own skill with a brush, Clovis had been something of an art historian, with some astounding knowledge of archaeology concerning hieroglyphics.

Most of the bills had on one side a landscape, centered on a building either of vital importance to the government or historically significant. For example, the bill portraying Benjamin Franklin on its front hosted an illustration of the Continental Congress' meeting place, here named by a tiny plaque as Independence Hall. Others were of places scarcely identified, such as a Georgian-style manor called "The White House". There were two exceptions, however, on the one-dollar and the two-dollar bill.

The latter showed the Congress in the process of signing the Declaration of Independence, their manifesto to George III and Parliament. In it, they had made their demands for freedom, speaking for the colonies with the intent of becoming an independent entity from England, as well as for the people, announcing their existence as free men with stature equal to the king, being fellow creations of God. Lofty words which were later held as base hypocrisy for many of them were slave-owners, and all were landed gentry, practically noblemen themselves. The rise of Social Darwinism had added another reason to spit upon their egalitarian goals as idealistic nonsense, a child's fantasy at best. For her part, Euphemia did look upon the situation questionably, but given her own situation – a royal fantasizing of special zones without class boundaries – she didn't totally dismiss their long-term plans or individual convictions out of hand as most did.

Shaking her head, she moved onto the other exception on the back of the one-dollar bill, which had caused her eyes to fairly bug-out the first time she saw it. The thought occurred that Schneizel would _definitely_ have appreciated Clovis' input as she took in the heavy use of symbolism. Centered was a massive "ONE" – the phrase "In God we trust" inscribed over it – bookended by two circles. The first circle showed a pyramid, its capstone floating freely above it as well as superimposed with a glowing eye. Above and below the pyramid were Latin phrases, translated as "He approves undertakings" and "New Order of the Ages". Obviously the latter phrase referenced the colonies becoming a newborn nation unto itself, while the former was presumably an assumption of divine support.

Just as bizarre was the circle on the right, which depicted a coat of arms consisting of a heraldic shield over a falcon with a cloud of stars over them. Clutched in the bird's claws were a handful of arrows and an olive branch, apparently denoting the country's capacity for both war and peace if so inclined. It also held in its beak a banner with more Latin on it, announcing "Out of many, one", denoting the separate states condition as part of a larger whole, or perhaps the integration of different peoples into a mass community.

_Powerful symbolism, whatever you think of them,_ Euphemia thought, as she turned her attention to the portraits the bills also carried.

Much like Britannian pounds, the dollars were decorated on one side with miniature portraits. The Empire used pictures of the current emperor as well as past royalty of some fame, with Areas often circulating random notes that depicted their current viceroy. The Americans, however, were all portraits of past historical figures, most of whom they recognized.

This gave her a pause, as Euphie considered the number of people that had risen to prominence on both worlds, in spite of differences of history and society. _We may have diverged from one another, but some thinks still run parallel, apparently, _she thought, thinking of the terms debated earlier.

The first and the last samples showcased two pivotal figures of Washington's Rebellion: General Washington himself, of course, and Benjamin Franklin, the latter with a knowing look but also an impish twinkle that was appropriate for him.

While schoolwork had not been her forte, she'd studied diligently rather than be automatically given marks that were low but still passable like some of her less-conscientious siblings. One of the topics she still remembered was the discoverer of electricity, and savior of the Empire in some eyes. The son of a candle-maker who wound up an earl, he was shown off as a representative figure of both Social Darwinism – the cream that rose to the top, as it were – and the meritocracy of the Empire, where ability was rewarded just as incompetence punished. A far cry from the same society that sniggered ruthlessly behind the backs of Lady Marianne and her children, which Euphie remembered just as well as her sister. She liked to think that Earl Franklin, who even after receiving his peerage signed all correspondence humbly as "B. Franklin, Printer," would have had no part in such shenanigans.

_Knowing what I know about him, the more I think of it, the more Lelouch has a point,_ she thought. _Still could have done without the shooting spree suggestion, though. _

The general, meanwhile, looked serene, unsmiling but not stern. This was a far cry from the self-righteous would-be despot she was acquainted with in Britannian depictions of his rebellion. The best he could hope for was portrayal as something akin to Shakespeare's Brutus, a villain-with-a-noble-rationale, tragic but no less a traitor to those he'd sworn loyalty. On Earth-2, evidently, he either lived to see the rebellion succeed, or died making certain that it would, his memory enshrined for either reason.

The rest she remembered to some degree or another, recognizing the names beneath their faces if not the faces themselves. Here on the two-dollar note was Thomas Jefferson, a contemporary of Franklin who'd been the author of the Congress' manifesto, as well as one of those selfsame slave-owners used to portray them in a poor light. Another, the five-dollar, showed Abraham Lincoln, another proud example of the Empire's system. A lawyer from the Duchy of Illinois, he'd been elevated to the Imperial Senate, then chancellor, serving as the emperor's right-hand man as the Empire briefly broke into civil war over control of industrialization, the rights of nobles, and other issues of the day.

Euphie stopped again as she considered another bit of trivia she'd learned in her studies. While not an overtly religious man, Chancellor Lincoln had subscribed to the Doctrine of Necessity, a belief that the human mind was controlled by some higher power, not necessarily God but referred to as "providence". For some reason, that fact skirted about the edges of her mind, like a name she couldn't quite remember being on the tip of her tongue. Deciding that, if it was really important, it would occur to her later, she moved on.

The rest were named Hamilton, Jackson, and Grant. Hamilton she guessed was Earth-2's Alexander Hamilton, aide-de-camp to Washington, who died alongside a man named Burr during a shootout with loyalists. Grant was likely Sir Ulysses Grant, a popular general during the civil war who may have succeeded Lincoln as chancellor had he not gotten bogged down in scandals with friends and acquaintances.

Out of the three of them, only Andrew Jackson really leapt out to her. While uncertain of his role in America's development, next to Franklin and Lincoln he had the greatest impact on early Britannian society. A soldier, then a knight and finally a peer, he'd used the spoils system to buy influence among noble and commoner alike as he rose through the ranks of society. He'd been a potential chancellor, gaining notice when an insane former housepainter attempted to murder him, a knight named Sir David Crocket affording him a narrow escape.

While notable aspects of his history, Jackson's pivotal actions were in helping to organize the Aborigine Approval Act, an imperial proclamation by which full rights as subjects of the crown were offered to the native peoples of the American continent in exchange for fealty. A large number, wisely noting which way the wind was blowing, accepted the offer. Those who resisted were forcibly relocated and more-or-less subjugated, their dwindling descendents known today as the Empire's first Numbers, the Ones. After Britannia fully integrated with loyalist settlements in the Canadian territories, the same happened, resulting in either Twos or, as was the vernacular at the time, Native Britannians.

This same methodology was used time and again, increasing Britannia's scope of influence without needless violence. As such, the Empire integrated the French colonies which were now the Duchy of Louisiana, including the natives whom they'd allied with as far back as the French-Indian Conflict. So too did were incorporated the descendents of Africans who'd been brought over as slaves before its abolishment by Parliament, as well as inhabitants of islands in the southeastern areas such as the Key West, Haiti, and Cuba.

This continued until the late 1920s when Social Darwinism gained a foothold, and the Empire began encroaching on territories of peoples and nations who valued their independence. This resulted in the evolution of the Area system, along with the concepts of Numbers and Honorary Britannians. A far cry from the Aborigine Approval Act, these institutions only offered the conquered the option of being banned from society or a limited series of civil rights, rights which often existed only on paper.

Memories of the A.A.A. reminded Euphemia of one of Lelouch's close aides, Major Nu if she remembered her name correctly. She was a direct descendent of the Hekawi tribe who'd steered the Five Civilized Nations towards accepting Jackson's offer. Coincidentally, she was also a surviving member of Area 11's Purist Faction, a group which vehemently opposed the notion of Honorary Britannians, feeling that it diminished the line between Britannian and Number. Despite all the talk of a coup being their intention, the Purebloods were loyal to the crown, something Lelouch said their leader for the Area, his knight of honor Jeremiah, exemplified. As a result, they'd respected citizenship granted by to the native peoples and their descendants by the Act, which the major's presence attested to.

_Which places them several rungs over some of the other arch-Social Darwinist groups out there,_ Euphie thought ruefully.

A number of groups had appeared in recent years advocating that Social Darwinism actually wasn't being exercised enough in society. They all operated under the banner of strengthening Britannia's natural power or safeguarding the people from "foreign contamination." Some, like the Purist Faction, you just didn't want to rub the wrong way; others, however, were simply dangerous extremists who unfortunately had influence. They moved to abolish not only the Honorary Britannian system, but retroactively do the same to the A.A.A., thus converting the descendents of the Native Britannians into Numbers as well. This included the descendants of European expatriates, even the non-English royalty. They even wished to expand the Number system so that Britannians who didn't meet some manner of requirements – psychological, physical, ideological, etc. – were demoted to Number as well. Notions proposed by the Purebloods were divisive enough, but demands such as these for many brought to mind the Unity League movement that Europe had suffered.

Euphemia shivered slightly as she remembered stories about them. It was a sequence of her history and social studies lessons which she privately called her "Britannia good/Europe bad" schooling. These lessons were obviously a tad biased, but there was no denying the actions of Adolf von Braunau and his followers, which the Central Hemicycle had sadly admitted to once they'd learned the whole truth. Taking the notions of fighting fire with fire to its not-so-logical extreme, the League was a totalitarian movement, its intention to oppose Britannia by becoming _more_ like Britannia. They moved to forge Europe into a weapon, advocating militarism, and expunging all weakness. It had taken hold in the German-Austrian states and, before anyone knew it, they were essentially in control, the territories officially under martial law but effectively seceded from the Ultra-union.

Resources, industry, and business interests were seized – or "nationalized" – by von Braunau's provisional government, the Reichstag. Civilians, meanwhile, were divided and segregated by squads of special deputies, frightening in their black uniforms and armor. Those who did not contribute to "the strength and unity of Europe" were forcibly evicted to designated districts, ghettoes in other words, later to be taken to labor camps and "reeducation centers" as space became available. Despite public claims to the contrary, no one returned from these places, a major sticking point in the Unity League's reign that more than anything else forced the hand of neighboring European states. Security forces by order of the Prime Minister himself swept in, but they were far too late. The camps were actually mass execution sites which claimed hundreds if not thousands of the homeless, the mentally ill, the lame, even people with something as minor as a family history of a disease, be it mental or physical.

Religion had also been a major sign of "strength" or "weakness" that the Unity League's deputies had stormed entire towns over, Europe's Jewish communities being a prime target. As suspected, von Braunau was a believer in the Aryan theory – a myth, actually – that had appeared in Europe just as Social Darwinism appeared in Britannia. The belief was that there had been a primordial race of god-like men, the Aryans, from some mystic land in the far North. The Aryans were supposed to be the progenitors of the Norse and other European races, as well as the inspiration for the pantheons they once worshipped. This same belief carried that the Hebrews were these god-men's enemies, who had contributed to them degrading into mere mortals, and whose descendents were all in a secret conspiracy to hold back the resurrection of the Aryans' power.

Just as Social Darwinism grabbed people's imagination in Britiannia, these twisted ideas took hold in many people at the time, provoking a new era of religious intolerance and violence. Many of Europe's Jewish communities decided to make a new life for themselves in Britannia. They were joined by Eastern European people who'd also been targeted as ancient enemies of the Aryans, and were more willing to risk a fresh start in a strange new land than flee and throw themselves on the mercy of the Russian czars. Thankfully, they had moved just as Social Darwinism was becoming the Empire's new religion, essentially coming in under the wire, and swore fealty to the crown as full Britannian citizens rather than honorary ones. As such, Britannia gained an entire generation of thinkers, scientists, and artisans practically overnight.

It was a loss that left Europe smarting for generations, although not all had learned from it evidently. Naturally, the Empire had leapt upon stories of the Unity League and von Braunau's Reichstag to showcase how far the Ultra-union's rhetoric of equality was a sham, an act which had worked but only for awhile. To many, the Number system was evidence enough that the Empire was only a stone's throw away from doing the same. In fact, many of the symbols of the Unity League, particularly the six-pointed star Jews were made to wear as part of their identification, had appeared at demonstrations against the Empire in the ghetto areas outside of Imperial Concessions. It was another matter which egged on Euphemia's development of her S.A.R. system as an alternative to Numbering.

_If only I could find someone who would—_

"—listen to me?!"

**/ * CG * /**

Euphemia suddenly looked up, afraid she'd been spoken to while her head was in the clouds. But no, it was Cornelia yelling at Guinevere.

"Come now, sister," the First Princess said, trying to sound conciliatory. "This is just the good news we needed. Their commoners are on the verge of rioting. They may have done some mischief to us, but they don't have the financial basis to launch a long-term war with us."

"I would hardly describe almost a fifth of our military in disrepair, with about half of the remaining basically sidelined, as 'mischief,' Guinevere," Lelouch retorted.

If Cornelia noticed him standing up for her, she didn't notice, continuing to meet Guinevere's ill-advised comments. "Any country worth its salt won't let a down economy stop it from rattling its sabers if both the rulers and the ruled feel threatened by an external enemy… which we are and which we have done."

Across from her, Carine looked just as dubious as Guinevere. "So what if the vermin protest? They're still dependant on the same tanks, artillery, and aircraft as twenty years ago. Knightmare Frames aren't even on the drawing boards." She shrugged, as if the answer were obvious. "Let's figure out the Tarnhelm problem so we can lay waste to a couple more of their cities. That'll be the end of it. Alright?"

Sitting back with a satisfied smirk, she then caught where Euphemia had been absent-mindedly shaking her head in disbelief at her. Scowling back, she was about to say something when Lelouch answered her.

"_Not_ alright, Carine," he said. "Do they have a Knightmare force? No… because they don't need them."

Euphie looked back and forth between her two siblings. Lelouch's reminder of the Americans' counterattack successfully shut Carine up. As if she hadn't been reminded enough, Carine then accidentally bumped with her elbow on the head of a walking cane hooked onto her armrest, knocking it onto the floor with a clatter. Cursing quietly to herself, she leaned over in her seat to pick it back up. There'd been no broken bones, but the ambassador, Diana, had badly bruised her leg, necessitating the cane for awhile.

"Are we certain those… creatures… were real?" asked Emil. "Poor 'Rudolph' here sees bizarre things every so often, and it means nothing," he added in jest as Oscar bristled at the jibe.

"We all saw them this time," Schneizel politely scolded him. "And thanks to Lelouch and those beneath him, we also have recorded evidence of these beings. The Justice League."

There was a moment's confusion at that. The name hadn't appeared in Schneizel's report, nor had it been mentioned before. Diana and her men hadn't even formally introduced themselves.

"I'm quite certain that is the official name for the agents of the United States' counterattack," he explained. "Here and there, the Earth-2 journalists would mention the involvement of a group called the Justice League, often concerning disaster relief or crime statistics. As with the terrorist attacks, everyone who hears of them already know what is being spoken of, so there was no clarification. At the time, we wrote this league off as a high-profile charitable organization, or some manner of utopian movement. Based upon the American ambassador's comments about justice, however, I've reevaluated that conclusion."

"Thanks for the warning," someone down the table grumbled.

"You're welcome, Emil," Schneizel responded, causing the prince to sputter at being caught.

"They… certainly would preclude the need for Knightmares if there is a supply of people like them," Odysseus agreed. "How could they possibly exist, Schneizel?"

"A new matter to be researched, if possible," Schneizel admitted. "Talk has been made of 'transhumanism' as scientific knowledge grows, particularly with matters of medicine, biology, and technology. But where we have talked, the inhabitants of Earth-2 have acted."

"And with no little experience," Cornelia added. "Those weren't subjects of recent experimental procedures we encountered. They were bio-engineered soldiers with experience."

"It would explain why a class system like Numbering does not exist on their world," Lelouch mentioned. "If they have the capacity for making such phenomenal leaps in physical capability, the sanctity of evolution, and therefore Social Darwinism, would receive short shrift."

"Technology was provided as a road to artificial augmentation, Cornelia," Castor (or Pollux) said, "along with biology. Those two men who escorted Diana could have used some manner of hi-tech."

"Yes," the other twin added. "The silver man's 'skin' promotes thoughts of nanotechnology, and the man manipulating tangible holograms almost certainly required that ring of his to perform his acts."

"Possible," Lelouch conceded, sitting back as he looked at his left forearm in remembrance. "The man in the suit of armor, I can't entirely discount the possibility of some advanced form of prosthetics. Not yet anyway."

"No one is asking you to," Schneizel said with a slight smile. "Still, seeing the ambassador in action, I got the definite feeling that it was more or less a natural act for her. What are your thoughts, Cornelia."

"I think you'll get all the answers you want once your scientists are done cutting her corpse up to their hearts' content," she said heatedly. "Her head, however, is going over my mantle."

Euphemia felt her eyes bulge again at this proclamation. "Cornelia, you can't be serious. She spared your life once; you can't hope—"

"And that was a mistake on her part, Euphie! A grave mistake!" she shrieked, slamming her fist down on the table again, definitely jolting everything sitting on it this time. "She should have killed me when she had the chance, instead of condemning me to live in humiliation. I can't rest until one of us – me or that juggernaut bitch – is _dead_."

At this, Cornelia looked Euphie directly in the eye, startling her. Her eyes blazed with fire, but had also turned red with tears.

"You should feel the same, Euphemia. And for a moment, you did. I heard you swear vengeance for me against that freak. Such an oath you must see through to the end if I fail, and therefore… I mustn't fail!"

Her declaration was a frightening one, and yet… After the heated words she'd poured out at her today, Euphie was surprised to hear Cornelia speak as defensively of her as ever. Smiling sadly, she simply reached out, taking her big sister's free hand in her owns. No words were necessary.

Sitting next to them, Guinevere simply rolled her eyes while Carine mimed the act of sticking her finger down her throat.

**/ * CG * /**

An hour later, Odysseus adjourned the meeting. It had its moments, of course, but all in all it had been productive.

Questions and suppositions had been volleyed back and forth concerning the Justice League – if they were Earth-2's true rulers, if they were even really human, etc – and how to deal with them. Schneizel and Lelouch were both asked about the advanced prototypes Earl Asplund had been working on, the sabotage of the Camelot project evident that his work was of concern to the preternatural beings. Lelouch responded that was a likely road to evening out the offensive gap between them, but sadly – even with the missing Major Croomey to act as a sort of pressure release valve – the earl was an inveterate tinkerer whose designs were too powerful to use by most. The term "user-friendly" was not part of his vocabulary, Schneizel allowed, but it was as good a deterrent as they had at the moment.

There were other, less pleasant moments. Especially when Lelouch, deciding he would be the bad guy who suggested it, tossed out the idea that they simply write off invading Earth-2 and cut their losses, which included abandoning the Emperor.

"_Hey, I'm not Prince John, and Father is _not_ Richard the Lion-hearted stuck in Vienna!" he said, defending himself from the borderline lynch mob before him. "And I'm not Richard III either, so no talk about how sharp a snake's teeth are," he added, seeing William's mouth open up. _

Oddly, his pseudo-treasonous suggestion was also one he shot down, offering to lead a new reconnaissance team to Earth-2. The purpose of which, he explained, was to accumulate detailed information, including data on the Justice League and any other augmented soldiers. This was to be followed by planning and executing a rescue attempt for the Emperor and, hopefully, others taken captive. In fact, he made it sound like getting the other captives were nearly as important.

(Several minutes after the topic had concluded, Euphie realized Sir Luciano and the possibility of rescuing him, hadn't actually been mentioned. Deciding it was just as well, and too late to bring up the matter anyway, she shrugged her shoulders and dropped anymore thought of it.)

Continuing, Lelouch explained that if nothing else, a successful rescue would acquire for Britannia a measure of strength so any further communication between themselves and the Americans wouldn't be misconstrued as mere capitulation.

"They may have surprised us, but we can't meekly roll over to their demands," Cornelia had agreed.

Unfortunately, this led into a short argument with Lelouch. She insisted on leading the team, while Lelouch argued that her talents were open warfare, unsuitable for an undercover operation.

"_He's right, sister," Schneizel said. "Besides, your face is certainly known to the Justice League and, likely the local military and security agencies. Lelouch may have better luck… leading my team." _

_Lelouch paused for a moment, before allowing that. "Additionally, I'd like to take along two members of my staff," he said, "and Sir Bismarck if you will free him from house arrest. It will give him a chance to redeem himself." _

_Looking pointedly at Guinevere and a few others, he added acidly, "That should also soothe any suspicions that I plan to take advantage of His Majesty's current state of vulnerability." Indeed, some of the looks he'd been receiving after volunteering to head a rescue operation hadn't escaped Euphie either. _

The members of his staff he wished to take, many assumed were his two knights, Margrave Gottwald and an Honorary Britannian that was seconded from Camelot. They were half-right, it turned out, as Lelouch would bring along Lt. Kururugi while Sir Jeremiah stayed in Area 11, governing in his absence. As for the other member of his party, all he would say was, "She's an experienced deep cover operative and combat specialist I have on retainer." Cornelia had sighed heavily while Euphie's interest was piqued, surprised to learn that about C.C.

Schneizel seemed pleased with the compromise, and Odysseus was agreeable as well. The only sticking point was that Schneizel would feel more comfortable if Lelouch oversaw the planning but left the execution of any rescue to others. "We can't have you away from Area 11 forever, brother. I'd be more comfortable with your presence regarding the situation with China," he explained. Other than a satisfied smile that he was deemed necessary to keep the High Eunuchs at bay, Lelouch said no more on the subject.

Following was a small discussion regarding the Ragnarok file the ambassador had left them. Unfortunately, out of respect that it was a secret project known only to the Emperor himself, Schneizel would only discuss it with some of the top members of the government. This consisted of the minister of war, the senior-most admirals and generals that were the heads of the military's branches, the Emperor's personal advisers, select members of the House of Lords and the Imperial Senate, as well as the heads of imperial security and intelligence agencies.

"But none of us," Lelouch had groused. He then oddly went on about whether there was anything on the file concerning any of them, to which Schneizel maintained was not the case. Lelouch hadn't looked satisfied, but had let the issue rest.

Less of a secret were the catacombs beneath the castle, which many had learned of before they were sealed off by security, something Cornelia had a hand in as much as Schneizel. Pictures had been taken by then, however, and time had been spent bandying about the massive stone doors central to the ruins. She preferred not to think about them herself as they looked more like the Gates of Hell, a feeling Lelouch shared given the spooked expression on his face when he saw them. The strange bas-reliefs inscribed on them didn't help allay the notion, particularly a crest which she mentioned looked like an upside-down omega symbol with flared "feet".

"I was reminded of the Greek letter 'psi', what with the crease of the doors running through it," Schneizel offered, good-naturedly. "But on second thought, your omega analogy is closer, Euphie."

She'd smiled at that. Not as deeply felt as her exchange with her big sister earlier, but still it was something. She tried to keep that memory as she approached her sister, who wasn't expressing any wish to socialize as the meeting broke up.

"Here," she said, holding out a report Cornelia had missed. Looking up, she muttered a thank-you as she grabbed it up, tossing it in with the rest before slapping the lid down. "What now?"

Cornelia glanced at her, but otherwise made no move to turn to her. "What else is there, Euphemia? I must return to Area 18 and continue leading my men against the European hordes… only I'll be commanding from a safe distance inside of a G-1 this time," she said sadly, shifting her broken arm for emphasis. "Most of our siblings in the military do the same without any disgrace, and so can I." She fixed her with a slightly accusing look. "You should be happy to hear I'm off the frontlines."

"Hearing you go to war worries me, but I'm past the point where I'm scared, Cornelia," she said, defending herself. "But that's because I know you're going against other soldiers, and there's no better one than you. But these other people… the Justice League… they're not some odd platoon. They're something else, both in what they can do… and what they must be to the people on their world."

"They're already living weapons capable of mass destruction. What more do they have to be that could worry you?" Cornelia asked, a violent eyebrow raised.

There was a moment of silence as Euphemia organized her thoughts, then spoke, her voice low and serious. "If you do face the ambassador again, if you do fight, you won't be facing another soldier, someone sent to fight with orders and equipment and a plan to retreat or advance as need be. You'll be facing someone the same as you." Her hand shot up and closed over Cornelia's mouth, silencing her protest. "I'm not drawing a comparison. I'm just saying that she, and the rest of this league, have people to whom they mean the entire world. I could _feel_ that about her. And they cannot let these people down, not once, and they'll risk everything so it won't happen a second time. That's what you'll be facing in her, just as that is what she'll be facing in you."

"What… what will I be facing against?"

"The same thing that you are to me, sister… a hero."

A mix of emotions played across her sister's face. Finally, she closed her eyes and, after a moment's concentration, let loose a brief chuckle. "If that's what you're worried about, Euphie," she said, opening her eyes again as she reached up to tousle her hair playfully, "you've nothing to worry about. For… there's no such thing."

With that, Cornelia picked up her briefcase with her free hand and moved to walk away, only to stop as Euphemia called out to her. With her back still to her, she then continued. "We have knights with codes of chivalry, Euphemia, but beyond that? I'm sorry, but heroes don't exist. Many men can be brave now and again; others can sell themselves as messiahs who can solve everyone's ills. But ultimately, they're people with feet of clay like everyone else. Some just crumble under higher pressure than most. People only become heroes after they're dead, and truth has been forgotten in favor of legend. Remember that, Euphie."

Setting her briefcase on the floor, she looked back as adjusted her cloak. As she did so, she reminded Euphie to pay attention to her teachers and her brother Schneizel while she was gone. She then added that she should spend some time with Lelouch while he was still in Pendragon, hopefully remind him how a real lady comported herself. With that, she gave a little wave, picked her briefcase back up, and walked away, leaving Euphemia with her thoughts. Chief among them was that it wasn't as bad as a hug and a kiss, but the hurt was the same.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._


	7. Chapter Six

**Knights or Justice?**

**Chapter 6: "Watch and Learn"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**The Watchtower**

**Low-Earth orbit **

**The Retaliation plus three days**

"_You don't have super-powers. You're just human, and that makes you one of the most fragile and pathetic creatures in the universe. Trust me, I know." _ As the audience guffawed at his twisted advice, the Mylar-covered man then held up his arms in a mock super-hero-in-flight pose as he made his exeunt.

Left onstage were two grown men needlessly rescued from a trivial "danger" anyone with common sense could deal with. One was dressed in oversized boys' clothes, complete with a propeller beanie, while the other was in a paramedic's uniform. "_Gee, thanks, Captain Atom,"_ they both chorused, the former with feigned childlike sincerity while the other's tone of voice was plainly dubious, eliciting a few more laughs with his straight-faced delivery.

Flicking his eyes between the television screen and the computer monitor with its series of read-outs and information updates, Green Arrow continued to watch as this year's hot new movie star popped up back in frame, still wearing his faux Captain Atom costume. Directing his face at the camera like an "I Want You" recruitment poster, he added to his earlier nugget of wisdom:

"_Next time, be a hero... by remembering you're not."_

With the "moral" of the skit complete, the audience applauded just as _Showcase_ broke to a commercial. In spite of himself, Green Arrow chuckled too. He was a good and loyal teammate, but frankly, Atom rubbed him as a bit of a stiff. Nor did it help that his powers were the sort of thing he'd protested against during his days in college.

_The ones I can remember anyway_, he thought wistfully.

Frankly, he needed the distraction. Months before, the Justice League had been taken over with mind control apparatuses by a conspiracy known as The Light. Spearheaded by an immortal conqueror named Vandal Savage, the Light claimed to believe the existence of super-heroes was stagnating the evolution of Man. Whatever they planned for the League had been narrowly quashed, but not without frightening revelations. The worst had been how the Light had seemingly turned his ex-partner Speedy, a.k.a. The Red Arrow, against them.

"More super-hero comedy, huh?"

Green Arrow jumped a little in his seat as the unexpected voice shocked him from his reminisces. Turning his head, he saw where Captain Marvel had practically snuck up behind him.

"Which one of your gods was a ninja, kid?" he grumbled a bit.

He had no problems with this Captain, but he'd been as put off as anyone else in the League when they'd learned he was really a middle-school student with access to a magic word. So he couldn't resist needling Cap a little bit, hence the "kid" remark. Disappointingly, "Bulk van der Huge-in-a-cape," as G.A. privately called him, took it all in stride.

"Mercury was kind of a sneak, but none of them, really. You're just lucky it's me and not Batman," Cap responded earnestly. He had a better attention to detail than most suspected, and it was obvious Green Arrow had let his wander, something their current chairman would have nagged him about. "Of course, maybe it's that hood of yours cutting into your field of vision. Maybe you should switch back to the cap; it's more 'Robin Hood' anyway," he said trying to be helpful.

The costumed archer glared back at the supernatural muscleman, an act cut down by his domino mask with its opaque lenses. "I've read my William Langland and, trust me, _this_ is more 'Robin Hood'," he said as he grabbed the sides of his hood, adjusting it with a snap.

Cap just shrugged, deciding to let dogs sleeping dogs lie. Returning his attention to the TV, he asked about what G.A. had been watching.

"Just a fake PSA skewering Atom. Captain Atom," he hastily added. Despite laughing about him during a membership drive a few months ago, Cap had become rather attached to the so-called Tiny Titan. "They picked the right one of us to go by, you ask me."

This earned him a critical eye as Cap's mood turned serious. "It could be any of us, Green Arrow. People are scared by all that's happened, and since they don't know… _can't_ know all we've done about it, they're a bit angry at us right now. Some people think we're a bunch of morbid adventure-seekers going after easy wins to begin with. A little satire's good for blowing off steam." He glanced away as he pondered his own words. "Of course, spending some positive time in front of the camera would do us some good as well."

In spite of himself, Green Arrow considered Cap's words, not for the first time forgetting how insightful the normally over-exuberant hero could be. That being said, he couldn't let the kid have the last word in, either.

"You mean like when you and Abby Cadabby showed kids the difference between up and down?"

Cap simply shrugged back at him. "Like I was gonna say 'no' to them?"

Green Arrow grunted as he returned to monitor duty, the words of a long-dead comedian – "You can't cheat an honest man" – popping into his head. _And you can't shame transparent sincerity, neither,_ he thought to himself.

He then had the second of two near-heart attacks for the day as the specialized Zeta-Beam platform powered up without warning. Jumping out of his chair, he ran up to it as he knocked one of his more damaging trick arrows.

"Alert: In-coming trans-dimensional Zeta-Beam transmission," the computer belatedly spoke in its usual stilted tone.

Captain Marvel flew alongside as a few other Leaguers assembled around the platform. Their apprehension all died as three familiar figures appeared in glowing outline, then resolved into their normal physical forms. Well, normal for two of them, anyway.

"Recognized: Martian Manhunter, zero-seven. Captain Atom, zero-twelve. John Stewart, zero-fourteen," the computer announced after they'd all clearly appeared.

"Thanks, 'Majel,'" the archer snarked at the computer voice. Its vocal protocols for overseeing the Zeta-Tubes was always halting and a little over-enunciated, but something about the platform's trans-dimensional feature had exacerbated the problem and they hadn't been able to fix it yet.

He then noticed that there may be a more significant programming error. "'Martian Manhunter'? But that's Wonder Woman," he said, looking at the third, misidentified member of the League's diplomatic mission.

"Are you sure?"

"Not easy to confuse her, Pretty Bird," said Green Arrow as he turned around, already knowing who'd spoken. It was Black Canary, his occasional partner in crime-fighting and, for a bit longer than he'd hoped, fiancée. She had on a self-satisfied grin as she walked up to him along with…

"Wonder Woman?!" he yelped.

Even as he did a double-take between the two identical women, Green Arrow realized the truth. Sure enough, the newly arrived "Wonder Woman's" form shifted, gaining height, her limbs thickening, her… torso adjusting itself, her costume expanding and growing a cape, her hair retracting into her skull which elongated slightly, her flesh tones changing, the irises and pupils of her eyes disappearing. Now standing beside Atom and Stewart was the imposing form of J'onn J'onzz, the Manhunter from Mars.

"How did the meeting go?" the true Amazon princess asked the trio.

"As well as can be expected," the Green Lantern responded. "We made some noise, made some trouble, and returned Marshal Cornelia and her men. Hopefully, they're getting medical treatment now."

"Assuming they don't eat their injured like sharks," Green Arrow muttered, shouldering his bow.

"I believe my façade was successful, Wonder Woman," the Martian said. He then cocked his head in thought, remembering the expression on the Knight of One's face. "In fact, I may have played you _too_ well."

J'onn had been assigned to the diplomatic team so he could get a better feel for the imperial family with his telepathy. Before leaving, he explained his plan to approach them while disguised as Wonder Woman with his shape-shifting powers so as not to put them on their guard too much. In addition to assuming her appearance and mannerisms, Manhunter also took a psychic reading of the Amazon which he'd broadcasted on a low-level telepathic wavelength, thus patching up any holes in his masquerade.

Wonder Woman raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't get a chance to ask as the League's current elected leader sidled up to J'onn. "Were you able to take telepathic scans of the royal family?" asked Batman.

"Yes, for what good it did," he answered. "For many of them, their minds held little depth, concerned only with petty desires, sometimes to a frightening degree. They hold all the real power but it is their military officers and political advisers that do the real thinking for them, I believe, finding ways of making their demands a reality. The only ones of interest were their chancellor Prince Schneizel, Japan's military governor Prince Lelouch, and Princess Euphemia, the marshal's sister."

He became a little distracted as he reviewed his impressions of them, his thoughts straying to the young lady. "An unusual example of the Britannian elite, unjaded and untouched by the lust for revenge endemic of her caste. Another reason I wish an appointment with Lelouch's sister."

"Wait… 'lust for revenge'?" Cap said, ignoring that last interesting little tidbit. "What have they to be angry about? _They're_ the ones who attacked us. From what we've learned, they start pretty much all their fights. They're an international gang of bullies," he added angrily.

"That's not how they see it, 'Ca–', uh, Captain," said Wonder Woman. "As far as they're concerned, they're the injured party in all of this."

Her voice carried a hint of mild exasperation, and she'd nearly spoken his title sarcastically. She had a problem with sidekicks and underage super-heroes to begin with, feeling the idea akin to child soldiers, and Marvel was a child even though he wore a demi-god's body. As such, she'd strongly objected to his inclusion on the League once his secret came out, justifying that it was tantamount to joining under false pretenses. It annoyed her when his membership had been renewed, but she was trying not to let it become a thing with her, "trying" being the operative word.

One matter that helped was Captain Marvel's valiant service in the past and present, as well as the commendable actions of "The Team." The Team was a secret squad formed of her teammates' apprentices and junior partners, meant to serve as an undercover squad as much as to give the teenaged heroes training as a group, something the League had lacked and stumbled for in the early days. Wonder Woman found the whole notion dubious in the beginning, but was slowly reconsidering, especially after they'd rescued the League from the Light over New Year's Eve.

Turning to the subject at hand, she held up a notebook where she'd been jotting her observations. She'd been studying the books on history and politics they'd brought from the other universe, and had even been translating a Braille schoolbook when the diplomatic team returned. Some were from Britannia, others were European or Chinese; from the varying view points, and by reading between the lines, she'd gleaned an idea of the Britannian way of thinking.

"This goes back generations to the time of the French Revolution on their world. It escalated into a continental affair called the Age of Revolution, which forced the aristocracy to completely abandon their ancestral holdings and start from scratch in North America. With cultural trauma like that, even though they're close to ruling half the world, they're convinced that their survival still hangs by a thread, and view their former homeland as a threat to their very existence." She paused then, and hesitantly added, "I'm… a little familiar with that kind of outlook."

Continuing, she declared the end result was a closed, militaristic society led by a privileged elite whose one goal was to attain power, no matter the cost. "Only when all potential competition is crushed will they be free of any threat to their way of life."

"At least, that's Britannia's motive as a whole." Everyone turned around at the even timbre of Superman as he joined them. "And with the Emperor out of the way, we've the opportunity to convince them their belligerence is neither necessary nor wise. There's still a chance cooler heads can prevail."

**/ * YJ * /**

After the diplomatic team had discussed their findings with their ebon-cloaked leader, the Justice League gathered at their conference table. Batman took his place at the head of the table with the Manhunter, Superman, and Wonder Woman by his side, the League's other charter members scattered about the table. Aside from two absent members, the entire League was present, eighteen experienced and lauded super-heroes of varying skills and backgrounds in all.

The conference room in Pendragon had looked like – and was – a gathering of the wealthy and the powerful, all dressed to impress with even the businesslike Schneizel and Lelouch attired in the finest fabrics. The League's meeting, on the other hand, could have been misconstrued as a congress of legends and mythological gods, their costumes running the gamut in form and style, from flamboyant to utilitarian, from colorful to somber.

Some had done so for an intended psychological effect, the clearest examples being Batman, whose colors and designs evoked the nocturnal predator he named himself after, and Superman, who dressed not only to inspire but, with his shield-like chest emblem, communicate his role as a defender. Others were strictly functional, such as the Flash's full body track suit and Black Canary's modified "biker babe" garb that reflected her status as a street fighter. Such as with the Green Lanterns, some "costumes" were actually uniforms, the Atlantean combat fatigues of Aquaman being another example. The most ostentatious in appearance were Hawkman and Hawkwoman; between their armored uniforms and their natural birdlike wings, they looked like an archangel and a valkyrie designed by a Warhammer enthusiast.

An onlooker would have drawn further comparisons between this meeting and its counterpart with the imperial court of Britannia. The royal family certainly would have been interested to know that their enemies' conference table was also shaped like an inverted U. They also may have assumed another bout of similarity from the look of the floor and walls, evidently made from stone, cut and polished to a glasslike sheen. One could be forgiven for thinking they were in a cave fashioned into living and working space like the Emperor's Chinese facility.

The reality, however, would have been far more frightening to them. Not mere polished stone, the meeting room was one of the few places where one could tell the true nature of the Justice League's headquarters. Only a few years ago, the team had abandoned the Secret Sanctuary within Mount Justice to find a new headquarters that met their escalating responsibilities. The end result was a semi-pyramidal skyscraper chiseled into the mass of an asteroid which now floated in geostationary orbit above Earth – The Watchtower.

Like Pendragon, it was more than just a building. It was symbolic of the Justice League's dedication to the protection of Earth from all threats that strained the capacity of standard civil authority, whether it was super-crime, natural disaster, or an invasion from beyond. It was an unspoken vow they all took seriously, especially when they'd all but failed to uphold it.

Despite their power and experience, the Justice League had been next to useless during the Britannian incursion. One moment it was business as usual, the next they were flooded with emergency calls about giant robots. Not only had the invaders been operating under a limited schedule that meant withdrawal before they could respond, but the energy surges caused by their dimensional-jump devices were only noticeable to the Watchtower's sensors when in large groups, such at Philadelphia.

On top of that, the group-surge had apparently knocked out the local Zeta-Tube entry points, forcing the Leaguers to appear outside the warzone and rush over there. It had only been Luciano Bradley's pigheaded devotion to his ghastly mission that allowed the Justice League to capture him and his minions. Even then, they'd practically been too late: Thousands were dead and large chunks of the city were gone forever, the City of Brotherly Love joining New Orleans on the short list of American cities that looked like they may have to be abandoned, demolished, and totally rebuilt.

Next to Philadelphia, military bases were hardest hit, the invaders taking soldiers to task as they did their best with their artillery, tanks, and – in two unique instances – an Apache helicopter and the cannons of a docked battleship.

The same scenario was replicated to some degree or another as soldiers in robotic battle-suits appeared across the globe, many near major cities including London, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Beijing, Geneva, Rome, Moscow, and Tokyo. A few showed the gravitas to do no more than stand around and look tough, frightening the locals. Most often, however, they'd done at least some damage, smashing buildings and attacking anyone who took arms with them before disappearing en masse. Ironically, given the history of the nation's counterpart with Britannia, Tokyo was among the former, the recent earthquake having already done enough damage that evidently the invaders felt that any hostilities would have been pointless.

The only thing close to a clear win happened in England, where a single battle-suit had appeared just outside the City of London. Luckily, within spitting distance was an unofficial science symposium gathered in celebration of the upcoming royal nuptials. Many in attendance were alumni of the royal rocket-testing program and other, stranger operations that existed during the moratorium in publicly active super-heroes after the J.S.A. had disbanded. Despite being out of practice for years, "Britain's Battling Boffins" – as the newspapers named them afterwards – proved themselves yet again, throwing together with spit and a prayer an EMP device that forced the invading war machine to stall out as it crossed the Tower Bridge. Arriving soldiers were able to pry the cockpit open, only to find the pilot had committed suicide rather than be taken prisoner. The escapade, however, took on the appearance of another Pyrrhic victory when the so-called "motor disruptor" was deactivated and the battle-suit's systems rebooted. This included the teleportation device, causing the battle-suit to vanish back to its home world with its grisly cargo, leaving nothing to analyze.

In retrospect, some of the invaders' activities indicated that they may not have been entirely sure where they were or who they were attacking. This particularly held true with a trio of battle-suits, purple and peculiarly dressed with massive capes, which attacked Fort Knox in Kentucky. Easily driving away the first wave of defense, the lead battle-suit had ripped open the main building while its followers stood guard. Whatever the pilot had been expecting, finding that they'd spent so much time and effort on a gold repository had apparently not been it. From reports, the pilot had flown into a rage that may have seen the entire base destroyed had they'd not disappeared as scheduled along with the rest.

The internet had exploded with theories as to their origin, just as the United Nations exploded with representatives of old enemies accusing one another of being responsible. Makeshift memorials with photographs, candles, and trinkets for the dead popped up on every street corner not overrun with religious zealots proclaiming the invasion a sign of Judgment Day or a punishment for society's sinful inequities.

Seeing that this never happened again had already become a top priority for the Justice League even before the White House and the United Nations both contacted them. Wherever the attacks originated, the League was the world's best hope to field an immediate, palpable response to the danger posed by the so-called Empire of Britannia. And their response had been to immediately… take a careful, measured approach to the problem.

The claims of the captured soldiers, originally dismissed as misinformation or perhaps mental conditioning, were taken into consideration. Doubly so after the Tarnhelm devices, their secrets both mesmerizing and terrifying, were disassembled and analyzed. And duplicated, as the newly configured Zeta-Beam platform could attest.

Tentatively, small expeditions were sent across the dimensional barrier to the invaders' world, now designated Earth-B. What they found there in short order frightened them, unnerved them, angered them, and steeled them. And what they learned was carefully compiled as plans, strategies, and finally time-tables were drawn up. Instead of repeating the mistakes of their Britannian counterparts and hotheadedly attacking their antithesis, the Justice League spent weeks on surveillance, gathering intelligence, and trading places with those who remained to guard against further incursions. With one final sweep across the globe by Superman and J'onn J'onzz, the League approached the American President and the U.N. Security Council with their recommendations and – surprisingly – received the green light on both fronts.

To oversee how well they had done so far, Batman called the meeting to order. Contrary to popular belief, his voice wasn't a hoarse growl; rather, he spoke lowly and evenly with a tone that, while not threatening, wasn't particularly inviting either. If they thought about it, the heroes assembled around him would have wondered when they'd gotten used to it.

"With the return of Martian Manhunter and his diplomatic team, Operation Beta is now concluded," he remarked, calling by name their second wave of attacks on Earth-B. "Preliminary reports all show acceptable damage performed within planned ten-to-fifteen minute schedules. Only the assault on the Dallas Research Institute was unsatisfactory."

Further down the table, Aquaman glanced at the helmeted mystic beside him, but Dr. Fate's posture hadn't changed at all. Not that Batman's comment was meant to reproach his efforts. Despite the time spent in preparation, there had been a margin for error once the balloon actually went up. The Team's penetration of the government bureau in Britannian-occupied Japan had been one. The attack on Chancellor Schneizel's research facilities had been another.

Breaking Britannia's ability to travel across dimensions was a major concern, as there was nothing to prevent them from sending further attacks. While studying the Zeta-Tubes affected during the invasion, they learned the mass-surge in Philadelphia had not taken them offline, but rather caused an interfering Zeta-Beam resonance. The Zeta-Tube system had detected this and automatically shut down entry points in the affected area. It was theoretical they could reverse this, circulating a frequency between all Zeta-Tube entry points at all times that would block dimensional-jumps. However, this was only theory, and so far the proposed "Zeta-Shield" project had yielded nothing.

So it remained a priority to destroy or limit Britannia's functioning Tarnhelm devices, and for the moment they had come up empty. It was to be expected that the project might have been moved to a more secure facility, or been disbanded completely with production of Tarnhelms tasked elsewhere. This didn't stop Fate from leaving a goodbye gift though, weaving a spell on the institute's computer systems had rendered them useless. They would have to be reformatted from the ground up, and until then all they were capable of was sputtering out the lost or _unwritten_ works of Emily Dickinson.

"Damage and sabotage to the Empire's military-industrial infrastructure, in tandem with Operation Alpha missions," Batman added, referring to the earlier attacks in the border territories, "equate a projected 16% loss of Britannian military capability. These actions were performed without loss of life, with potential witnesses – officers and support staff, forced laborers, and civilian bystanders numbering less than a hundred individuals – incapacitated and removed with surveillance systems sabotaged beforehand."

A number of heads around the table, those with an understanding of military matters, nodded approvingly. Sixteen percent seemed like a small reduction, and Britannia was certainly still nothing to sneeze at. But wars had been won or lost over smaller drops in an armed service's ability.

"We'll have a firmer grasp on the situation when the Atom reports in," the chairman concluded. The size-shifting hero had been left behind when the diplomatic team invaded the Imperial Palace. With his potentially subatomic size, the Atom was ideal for spying upon the royal court, as well as going to and fro their world without notice, reporting on the Britannians' plans as well as the public mood and other important details.

"Are we sure leaving him there is a good idea?" asked Captain Marvel. He shot a worried glance down the length of the table at the Atom's doll-sized chair, now unoccupied. "No matter how bad we scared them, they'll be out for blood if they happen to find the little guy."

"That's a big if, Captain. I've worked with the Atom before, and he can take care of himself," said Hawkman. "Admittedly, a long-term mission like this is new, but he's equipped with everything he needs, even miniaturized food rations." He stopped and paused at that. "_Extra_-miniaturized, that is," remembering his surprise when he looked at what he'd thought was a dust mote under the microscope, and saw it was actually the survivalist's equivalent of a feast fit for a king. It was now even smaller, and occupying a pouch on the Atom's costume.

"Not a lot they could do even if they did find out about him," added Green Arrow. "Small targets are hard to hit as it is, and he'll be moving and getting even smaller if someone gets lucky."

"Speaking of small targets," Wonder Woman spoke up, "there've been topics we sidestepped in preparation for our counterattack. Now that this is actually happening, we can't put it off anymore." Speaking officially, as if presenting a bill to Congress, she added, "I'd like to discuss approaching nations hostile to Britannia, including native insurgency groups in their conquered areas."

From the look on his face, one could tell Captain Atom had been with her up until she'd mentioned insurgents. "You mean work with terrorists? I'm sorry, Wonder Woman, but that's how we dealt with the Soviets in Afghanistan, and look how that turned out."

"They were successful, as I recall," she responded primly.

Atom's features pinched at that remark, but he kept quiet. In spite of her appearance, Wonder Woman was actually decades old, a former member of the Justice Society of America, and one of the oldest still-living super-heroes. She'd seen combat in World War II, and thus had a unique perspective on warfare and its impact on culture and society.

"I've worked with freedom fighters before, Captain," she continued. "Partisan fighters in Italy. The Dutch and Norwegian resistance. Free French and the _Comité français de Libération nationale_. I know it's not appropriate to say so these days, but the adage is sometimes true: 'Terrorists' is what the big army calls the little army."

At this, John Stewart spoke up. "Whatever you want to call them – freedom fighters or terrorists – it's not as simple as 'good rebels vs. evil empire' like in the movies. Now, if – _if_ – we approach insurgency groups, it should be like some that you just mentioned, Wonder Woman. If I remember my history right, the Free French was formed by de Gaulle and others in the armed forces who wouldn't roll over for the Vichy regime the Nazis set-up."

"And the resistances were in support of, and recognized by, their royalty and other government officials in exile," agreed Aquaman, who'd been a king-in-exile more than once himself.

"Using those organizations as models, we should seek out groups whose intent is to realign their occupied country with their legitimate government body, and in fact may be acknowledged by surviving elements of the same," suggested Icon, trying to form a middle ground between his fellow Leaguers' preferences. An extraterrestrial, he'd been a legal mediator of sorts before his time on Earth, a skill set he used in his private life as well as League meetings like this.

"In the former state of Japan, for example, that would be the Japanese Liberation Front, which consists of remnants from their self-defense force," explained the Red Tornado in his electronic monotone.

"In the past, that may have been true," countered Icon. "However, recent events have shown J.L.F. officers taking action in which distinction between Britannian authority and civilians was clearly not afforded. Indeed, civilian population centers, such as a lakeside luxury hotel some months ago, were primary targets."

"You equate them with the so-called Blood of the Samurai organization, then?" the android queried.

The Blood of the Samurai is, or rather was, an actively militant group on Earth-B who'd been wiped out recently. Aside from abolishing Britannian rule, their charter followed an extreme form of Bushido, and held ideas of ideological and cultural purity such as re-implementing ancient Japanese class lines as during the Edo period. They'd also specialized in attacks on "soft targets" – undefended locales heavy with civilians – in the hope of terrorizing the Empire into capitulation. All in all, they'd had potential to become an extreme fundamentalist political group not unlike the Taliban if they'd achieved a level of influence.

"No, not yet anyway," Icon clarified. "The Blood of the Samurai had the indicators of a radical movement seeking to bend government policies towards what they deemed a correct path. The J.L.F. merely wishes to restore the democratic system in place before their country was occupied. However, they seek to resolve Britannia's occupation using standard military policy, which is simply beyond their capacity to achieve or maintain if successful. They either cannot or _will_ not adapt, and so have entered into an unproductive cycle of violence."

"And revenge," Black Canary interjected, "which describes most of Japan's resistance groups. They have lofty names – 'Alliance' this and 'People's' that – but they behave little better than street gangs in a prolonged turf war."

From across the table, Green Arrow mumbled, "So what else is new?"

"That may be true, but keep in mind they're neither radicals nor soldiers, Black Canary," Superman pointed out. "They're ordinary people, trapped in a situation not of their own making, and scared of what tomorrow may bring if things don't change. They're not criminals, not most of them anyway. They're just desperate."

"In that case, give me the Injustice League any day." Sitting next to Black Canary, Hawkwoman had spoken as she held her hands out over the tabletop, the motion activating a holographic computer screen with a keyboard. "You're right, Superman, but that only emphasizes the problem. They have a general goal, but no real plan on how to make that happen, punctuated by rash decisions."

She'd continued to speak as she typed away, activating the larger hologram projector between the sides of the conference table. An image appeared, an enlargement of a newspaper article reporting the official version of the Shinjuku massacre, along with accompanying photographs.

"This one group caused a pogrom when they allowed themselves to be followed back to one of the ghetto areas surrounding Tokyo after committing a robbery. When they lost sight of them, the military simply attacked indiscriminately and afterwards claimed the fatalities were caused by poisonous gas unleashed by the insurgents. Keep in mind," she added, "they actually _had_ stolen a large gas canister, and who knows what they were planning to do with it. Considering the number of civilian casualties, they might as well have used it there."

"If we're worried the apples in the barrel are bad, then let's go straight to the tree," said the Flash, paraphrasing a favorite movie line of his. "The Houses of Kyoto not only fund most of the real resistance in Japan, but they're supposed to have ties to Japan's surviving nobility. In exchange for aid, we can specify personnel and manner of tactics to be used or refused, which Kyoto has the juice to make happen. This way we can avoid groups with an agenda to push, or just looking for their pound of flesh. No more amateur hour. No more 'collateral damage'," he said derisively.

"If we can find out who they are," Hal Jordan, the team's first Green Lantern, said next to him. "They're hidden better than the Light." He then whispered "'Juice'?" as an aside to the Flash, incredulous at his friend's attempt at street lingo. Slightly embarrassed himself, the red-clad speedster simply shrugged in response.

"The Kyoto Houses are the same men as the board members on Area 11's Number Advisory Council."

Several Leaguers blinked as they looked at Batman, who'd just spoken so matter-of-factly. Speaking for the group, Green Arrow asked how he figured that.

"Occupied Japan is home to some of the most intense ongoing resistance on Earth-B. Their supply lines would require money and access to materials, lots of it. The councilors are all Japanese industrialists with close ties to the Prime Minister and the government who suddenly threw in with the Empire, supposedly to retain their wealth and privilege. _Res ipsa loquitur_."

A few looked doubtful that it was so simple, so he added, "Believe me, when an outlaw operation requires high-finance to continue, secret identities become rather obvious."

At that, the Leaguers exchanged glances as they considered the idea. Green Arrow, a former playboy who bankrolled his crime-fighting campaign with what remained of his fortune, simply shrugged and nodded in agreement, obviously not giving Batman's comment anymore thought than that.

Out of the corner of his eye, Batman saw Superman cover his mouth with his hand, apparently rubbing the sides of his face with his thumb and forefinger, but was actually hiding a grin. There was a twinkle in his eye that seemed to say, _You enjoyed that, didn't you, Bruce?_

In response, the Dark Knight tapped upon the tabletop with his index finger in Morse code, so lightly that only one man present could hear it. _I don't know what you're talking about_, it translated.

When the meeting settled down again after Superman's sudden bark of laughter, the discussion continued, discussing the two rival powers on Earth-B, and the possibility of approaching them with offers to help. With the conquest of the Middle Eastern Federation in recent months, this left the Euro Ultra-union and the Chinese Federation, which together consisted of nearly the whole Eurasian continent, its people, and resources.

The Euro Ultra-union was a democratic union of nations that covered Europe including Russia, and even held much of Africa until Britannia started expanding again. The E.U. was much like the European Union on their world but with expanded powers and was much, _much_ older, having been established during the Industrial Revolution. From what they could gather, the socio-political scene following the Age of Revolution had altered the outcome of the Concert of Europe, the assembled powers choosing to accept Enlightenment and other liberal ideas rather than give in to nationalism and old rivalries. As a result, instead of the "balance of power" which led to the First World War as on their world, a pan-European confederation formed which today looked to be Earth-B's best hope against Britannian imperialism

Even more unusual was the Chinese Federation, which held all of mainland Asia, and even India and Pakistan. Some permutation of the eras of the Dowager Empress Cixi and communist revolutionary Sun Yat-sen had resulted in a unique form of government combining the features of a socialist republic and a constitutional monarchy. Despite the inherent contradictions, the Federation was in essence a communist state that retained the imperial family as cultural leaders. They had kept much of their territory by remaining neutral in most international controversies, although they had not gone unaffected by the Empire, which now partially held regions such as Korea and Cambodia. Nevertheless, China had a massive army on standby, certain to be a factor should outright hostilities with either of its neighboring superpowers ever break out.

Sadly, both had their faults.

Already hampered by a Heller-esque bureaucracy, cracks had started to form in the E.U. with some countries threatening secession. There were a variety of reasons, ranging from simple weariness over the prolonged war with Britannia, to more palpable motivation such as citizens' fear of enslavement by the encroaching Empire. Even worse, during their surveillance missions, they'd come across encoded communications that hinted at collaboration. Like any democracy, the E.U.'s national representative body, the Central Hemicycle, was fraught with politicians more concerned with retaining their positions than with long-term stability. But now some were secretly negotiating with Schneizel, effectively arranging seats for themselves on future N.A.C.'s once their respective nations had fallen.

Further damning Europe were the W-0 Units, a clear about-face from the Ultra-union's stance as a fair and equal society. Reminiscent of the French Foreign Legion, these units were formed by actively recruiting – possibly even conscripting – refugees from Britannian-occupied lands. Promised a fast track to naturalization and full civil rights as a European citizen, they were pretty much being used as cannon fodder so native-born citizens could be spared, at least for the moment. Adding to the fires of racial prejudice in Europe was supposition by some that Britannia's war was simply to reacquire their runaway Numbers.

This at least could be excused as due to pressure from Britannia's war of attrition against the Ultra-union. Wonder Woman had seen a similar breakdown in morale and civilization during the London Blitz as panic would occasionally take hold and people turned on one another. There was hope that their campaigns on the Empire's borders and infrastructure had given the besieged E.U. some wiggle room to regain lost ground, perhaps even a decisive victory over Britannia's forces. As such, the Euro Ultra-union remained a possibility they were open to discussing with the American government and the United Nations.

For all its faults, the E.U. was a land of milk and honey in comparison to the Chinese Federation. The supposed piety of many communist states to Marxism often hid a severe class gap upheld by a coercive state security system, a matter on which Earth-B's China was not only the same, but had done so with gusto. Total control of production and distribution by government officials had led to criminal mismanagement, stagnating the economy and leaving most of the population in abject poverty. The relative few who could find work were exploited, with China's inconsequential middle class hardly living any better. The bulk of the country's wealth laid in the hands of its minute but overarching upper class, which consisted mostly of the same government officials that had ruined their country to begin with and their toadies. As a result, there was rampant abuse of power, with territorial governors treating their provinces like personal fiefdoms.

At the top were the members of China's "politburo," the supreme council of both the state and the ruling party. Following the trappings of Imperial China, they styled themselves after the Emperor's advisers and ministers in olden times, and were even known as the High Eunuchs, although how apt a title the League felt no incentive to investigate. Much like the Parliament of the United Kingdom, they were supposed to be a legislative body who served at the behest of the head of state, which in this case was the Emperor of China (or "Tianzi"). The reality, however, was they were a gang of shameless despots whose only real concern was an uninterrupted life of excess. And if given the opportunity, they were likely to sell out to Prince Schneizel without a second thought.

Only China's imperial family, descended from the Qing Dynasty, could take the High Eunuchs to task, and their numbers had suspiciously dwindled over the years. Perhaps it was a secret program begun during the revolution to help ease the country into a total socialist state, or perhaps it was another sign of the corruption at the heart of the system. Whatever the reason, by the time Japan was invaded, all that remained was the current Tianzi, his queen consort, and their daughter. There was also a cousin with a family of his own, but they all died shortly thereafter, although the body of a son was never found. With the "accidental" death of the imperial couple not long afterwards, all power rested in the hands of the daughter, Jiang Lihua, a little girl who'd easily been bullied into allowing the High Eunuchs to run China as they wished since then.

"So, our options are a corrupt democracy that's losing _and_ starting to fall apart, or a massive pyramid scheme that's just about as bad as the Brits?" Green Arrow summarized, although like many on the League he was half of the mind to pay the High Eunuchs a visit all the same. The ceremonial makeup they daubed themselves with included a three-part symbol that resembled the arrowheads sewn onto traditional British prison uniforms, and he dearly wanted to make that emblem prophetic.

"We don't need either of them to beat Britannia really," Hawkman said. "We already have the backing of the American president, and the Security Council can arrange aid from other nations affected by the attacks. So if we have to, we can go in alone."

"We can, but should we?" asked Superman. "We have rules and regulations on if, when, and how we interfere with other countries. We've bent them for the greater good before, and had covert missions using the Team, but this…" He stopped and paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "We're only going to be on Earth-B for so long. These people will have to solve their own problems, and we need to give them a hand-up, not a bail-out. And I think we may be too used to outright rescuing people to do that."

"And because of that, we could accidentally wind up playing kingmaker, and make things worse," stated Captain Marvel, sympathetic with his hero being torn over the prospect of helping too little versus outright meddling.

Batman gave him the briefest look of approval at that. "One of the main reasons we kept to the shadows on this one. How would it affect Earth-B's other nations to learn of us? The people oppressed by the Empire? Even assuming they believe we won't seek to replace Britannia, could we allow them to put much faith in us? Give them hope for a world free of the Empire that we may not be able to provide, not when preserving our own world is our main objective?"

"When you allow people to place all their faith in one person, you're setting them up to be betrayed. I understand that better than most think," added Superman. "It would be less damaging to stick to realistic goals. Now is not the time to experiment in building Utopia."

"Wait, what's this about us _not_ giving them some hope?" demanded Black Canary, to which her partner answered.

"Bats means that Britannia may just back off and pursue peace once they realize they've poked the bear. We'd have to do the same in that case, and let them keep on trying to take over Earth-B. Not my favorite thought either, but we have our own world to worry about and our own problems to deal with."

Some were surprised the Robin Hood-inspired hero would back down given the opportunity. His own conscience wasn't too keen either, but he had his family to look after. Vandal Savage's takeover of the Watchtower had revealed that Red Arrow was actually a clone, the real Speedy having been kidnapped and replaced by the Light years before. The search to find him had been fruitless so far, but neither Arrow had any intention of abandoning it anytime soon. However, the sudden war with Britannia had changed things, forcing G.A. to put the League's mission first while Red Arrow continued alone.

"Nobody's saying we don't," Wonder Woman responded heatedly, "but how can we meet our obligations with the threat of invasion constantly looming over us? Everything we've seen and learned warns that any attempt to reason with Britannia will be taken as a sign of weakness. The best we can expect from them is an extended lull while they try to develop countermeasures to our powers, then they'll make a second attempt."

Sitting back in her chair, she sighed heavily as everything she'd seen during the League's spy missions rewound in her head. The hedonistic garden parties of the aristocrats. The military parade grounds and innumerable battlefields swarming with the robotic vehicles that had all but burnt Philadelphia to the ground. The shantytowns and Prypiat-like ruined cities that were the only available homes of the Numbers, the slaves and "untouchables" of the Empire. And the Britannians were _proud_ of it. Everything that they had done for themselves and to the world was deserved.

"With their 'survival of the fittest' mentality," she said as she began talking again, "the Empire has built the sort of world Vandal Savage envisions. A world where those with the power take what they want and look after themselves, while leaving everyone else to their fate. For that reason alone we should fight them, and given they now wish to spread their empire to our world, we're justified in doing so. Whatever the social ramifications may be, we should pursue a continued war until the Britannian Empire is no longer a threat… to anyone."

"I agree," burbled Dr. Fate's voice. It had been unexpected, as the helmeted figure usually sat through meetings in somber repose, and so many Leaguers started… or flinched, rather. When he spoke, Fate sounded like two people talking simultaneously, and unlike with Batman, there was simply no getting used to it. Not with the semi-human voice of Nabu, a supernatural entity whose essence was conducted by the helmet, overlapping the natural, cultured tones of Giovanni Zatara, a spell-caster of no little ability who was the father of Zatanna, and Nabu's thus far permanent host.

"As the Martian Manhunter discovered in China, the Britannians have conspired to imbalance the laws of nature. Such actions cannot be condoned. So long as the prospect of Ragnarok lives, the safety of _all_ worlds is in endangered."

J'onn J'onzz paused in thought as he considered the Lord of Order's words. During their espionage operations, he occasionally felt eddies in the noosphere – the psychic strata – of Earth-B. Curious, he'd used the final look-and-see of the parallel world to track their source.

He felt a significant concentration of psionic energy while over the deserts of China, which he scanned telepathically, intrusive but not so intense as to be detected. The thoughts he encountered suggested a hidden research program delving into extrasensory perception and psychokinesis sponsored by Britannia. Its presence within enemy territory aroused his suspicion, as did the presence of several young minds, the minds of children, his anger.

The day of Operation Alpha, he invaded the facility, bringing along his niece Miss Martian, who shared his psionic powers, and Plastic Man, whose malleable body left him better protected than most from whatever physical threats they could find. They entered, expecting little more than an intensive psychic warfare program. Instead they found the truth, which on this occasion was more frightening than their assumptions. Within a massive cavern which branched out into innumerable underground tunnels was a subterranean city, a modern Moria inhabited by a cultish group consisting of psychics and the scientists who studied their powers. Among them were assassins-in-training being taught to use their powers for the benefit of the Empire. Many of them were those same children Manhunter had initially detected.

Regardless of age, they possessed psi abilities backed by raw power that made them almost unstoppable. The only reason J'onn and his squad survived was the manner in which their abilities manifested, as each had one specific form of psionic power and even then they differed in the conditions by which they could use it. As such, they could not attack in unison for their powers were more likely to cancel each other out than be of assistance. Between that and the relative inexperience of most of them, the squad lasted long enough for the Martians to prepare a widespread mind-bolt that fell the entire compound, leaving only those with the strongest minds conscious.

At the center of it all, they found no one less than the Emperor of Britannia himself, Charles zi Britannia, overseeing the operation. Unfortunately, he proved to be a psychic himself with the power to rewrite memories and personalities. J'onn shivered slightly as he remembered the Emperor's power slowly but surely burrowing into his mind. Thankfully, he and M'gann had combined their powers to form a telepathic shield that resisted the Emperor's power, distracting the tyrant as Plastic Man tackled him from behind. His power dependent upon eye contact, Charles was neutralized as the Stretchable Sleuth molded himself into a living combination straightjacket and blindfold.

Usually, that would have been the end of it, but it was not to be. There had been a small child inside the facility's command center, richly dressed and with exceedingly long hair. Foolishly, they'd presumed he was another victim of Charles' experiments as neither Martian could detect his mind. While they'd been restraining the Emperor, the boy ran off into hidden tunnels and chambers deep within the cave system. Miss Martian had flown after him, assuming that he was simply frightened of them.

Instead, expressing a mentality and capacity for ruthlessness far beyond his apparent years, the boy had run to a secret hangar where he took command of a giant, modified Knightmare vehicle. As it cleared its moorings, it was plainly a prototype, and under construction to boot, as it floated in midair like a monstrous Christmas tree ornament. Still, the machine was powerful, keeping them at bay with either its rockets or flailing its anchor-lines at them as its pilot attempted to bring the entire cavern down upon them all. He was only defeated when Plastic Man used his nonconductive body to avert a portion of an electrical field around the juggernaut, allowing the Manhunter to phase through to the cockpit and forcibly remove the little terror.

As Checkmate appeared and began taking the Emperor and his subjects into custody, J'onn and his squad began taking stock of the facility. Plastic Man led a foray into the compound's computers and file rooms, the safecracking skills of his former life coming into play. Meanwhile, J'onn and his niece scrutinized a series of ruins central to the cavern, particularly the sealed archways which were the convergence point of ethereal forces he'd originally detected. And between the two efforts, they'd learned damn near everything.

The ruins, codenamed "Providence," which were the true reason for Charles' multiple invasions since taking the throne. The World of C, a solidified formation of the noosphere to which the archways served as a nexus, and the Jungian collective unconscious that manifested therein. The Ragnarok program, the Sword of Akasha, and the Emperor's mad dream to impose peace on mankind by erasing people's individuality. A mad dream he shared with his brother, the eternal child V.V. With this one mission, the entire situation had escalated from dealing with a belligerent trans-dimensional nation, to a plot to rewrite human nature itself.

On a lesser note, these discoveries had made the parallel world of Britannia just a little less alien to the Justice League…

In addition to people affected by alien encounters or episodes of magic and/or science gone awry, the past hundred years had seen the appearance of "superhumans" on their world. These were people who'd spontaneously mutated during events of extreme physical stress or environmental factors, including exposure to exotic chemicals or even radiation. As a result, instead of being killed or crippled, they'd developed extra-normal abilities that not only allowed them to survive, but thereafter possessed permanently. Multiple studies had yet to identify the genetic X-factor responsible, which appeared randomly throughout the human population, regardless of race, sex, nationality, and heredity. While the relative few who gained super-powers either split off into criminals or civic-minded adventurers, or simply hid their powers to continue normal lives, an undercurrent of equal parts hostility and opportunism had formed within political arenas around the globe.

The humans of Earth-B, on the other hand, seemed to be wholly lacking this same potentiality, the apparent tradeoff in their biology being a wider variety in eye and hair color. Learning of the mental powers called Geass – seemingly named after the curse from Irish folklore called a "geis" – and its symbiotic relationship with the regenerative-matrix known simply as Code certainly got the League's attention.

J'onn came back down to Earth as Dr. Fate continued speaking, suggesting that the Providence sites be destroyed, as well as the Emperor's research used to locate and remove those possessing either a Code or a Geass-power from the general populace.

"Okay, that's just going too far!" Captain Marvel objected. "How would we like it if things were reversed? Suppose some of our bad guys caused trouble on some other world, and people came from there demanding everyone with super-powers be turned over to them so they won't be bothered anymore."

Around the table, six members suddenly felt odd, as if vaguely reminded of something they couldn't quite put their finger on. Unable to grasp the thought, they brushed it aside as the once-beleaguered Leaguer continued to speak, partially addressing Dr. Fate. "Now, I'm as willing as anyone to take the fight to Britannia for however long it takes, but what you're suggesting punishes random people who aren't involved with the Emperor's schemes," he ended, a slight accusatory edge to his voice.

"By eliminating Providence and isolating the immortality Codes, a handful suffers while the billions who remain and those yet to be born are safeguarded," Fate retorted. "As Superman said earlier, it is for the greater good."

Superman was about to say something about words being put in his mouth when Cap spoke up again. "Maybe it makes some kind of 'big picture' sense, but that doesn't change the fact that we'd be acting like we know what's good for everyone. Even when you have the best of intentions, it's the same as an evil act when you force them on others, not asking or caring how they feel about it."

"A lesson proven again and again by history, most recently by the intentions of the Emperor and his brother," J'onn said in agreement. "Furthermore, destruction of the ruins would itself lead to an imbalance in order on their world. They, the Code, and those with Geass are part of their world's unique heritage. Those who have obtained power only to abuse it should be made to answer, but we cannot deny an entire civilization its right of responsibly."

A forced cough echoed from the end of the table. Most everyone turned their attention to Plastic Man, who'd been silent through the meeting until then.

"Since we're on the topic of punishing people, call it morbid curiosity, but what's the 411 on the people we've… arrested? Taken hostage?" He ended it with a self-conscious shrug, not quite sure as to the legal status of the people they'd brought back with them from Earth-B.

Knowing what he referred to specifically, Batman activated his own holo-laptop and punched a button. The main projector hummed to life again, displaying the image of a young teenaged boy with brown hair. He was lying on a hospital bed with a respirator over his mouth, a heart monitor and a series of other devices hooked up to him. Despite his fragile state, he was in restraints, including an inhibitor collar, and no one would have been surprised to know his room was under heavy guard.

In spite of his age, he was one of Emperor Charles and V.V.'s psychic assassins, and an experienced one at that. His Geass could paralyze the perception of time over a wide area, effectively immobilizing everyone within reach, and been effective in stopping Manhunter's squad early in their invasion of the Chinese facility. His attempt to kill them failed disastrously, however, as he chose to start with shooting Plastic Man, whose power to stretch he'd badly underestimated. The result was he'd nearly been killed by ricochets off of the Leaguer's naturally super-pliant body. Plas had been distraught afterwards, the less-than-hardened ex-thief hysterically laughing for a moment that he had to go straight to become a child killer.

"Rolo," Batman said, having learned the boy's name from the Geass Directorate's files, "came through surgery, and is expected to make a full recovery, although installing a pacemaker sometime in the future has been recommended." Allowing Plastic Man a moment's relief over that, he then continued. "What happens when he's released is still being discussed with the proper authorities, though.

"Right now, many of the cultists are being detained in the high-security wings of hospitals, where child services and medical teams can examine them. Their Providence research, meanwhile, is being analyzed by staff from S.T.A.R. Labs. This includes that curious amnesia victim Manhunter found."

As he said this, the image changed to another teenaged boy, years older than Rolo, with locks of prematurely gray hair. While experimenting with opening the archway in the Geass facility, J'onn had discovered the teen within the transit way between the physical world and C's World. He'd sensed that the teen was touched with a Geass, but also amnesic with no memory of who he was or how he became trapped in Earth-B's noosphere.

He was now on their world along with the other children from the Geass Directorate, being looked after by a prolific think tank organization the League had worked with extensively. Out of love for a famous TV host-slash-hoax debunker from yesteryear, staff members had nicknamed the mysterious teen "Ray".

"The hardliners, who are the same age if not even younger than Rolo, are another factor," said Batman as he continued. "They're too young to go to Belle Reve, and too dangerous for either the hospitals or standard juvenile detention."

"Perhaps a separate section of that new prison I've heard about?" the Flash wondered aloud. "It's been done with V.V., keeping him secure but also out of general population." His comment about a new prison started whispers around the table again, for which he and Batman provided an explanation:

Nicknamed the Brain Trust, a new penitentiary had been specifically built to house criminals with advanced mental powers – hypnosis, clairvoyance, mind-reading, etc. There had always been worries that these sets of powers made keeping them imprisoned particularly problematic, as they could circumvent the system, blackmailing the guards or even taking control of them without them being aware of it. Construction had begun under heavy public criticism that it was all pork barrel politics, but then the Belle Reve scandal had happened. The invasion had stalled matters, but it had been completed and a series of inmates already moved there in recent weeks.

The very structure of the building was meant to hinder the admission of psionic energy with ironwork using magnesium-tungsten alloys and girders with cores of pure selenium. Circuitry woven into panels of the inner walls prevented astral projection and telepathic communication with the outside. In place of guards, the facility was run by a fully automated system that that saw to the prisoners' needs as well as maintaining order. The same was loaded with internal motion sensors which followed their own movements, making sure all actions fit programmed activity, as well as over a dozen redundancy systems that switched on and off randomly, preventing telekinetics or those capable of electronic manipulation from controlling them. This was backed by knockout gas under high-pressure that would be released throughout the facility should the worst happen.

As they spoke, a series of images of the new complex played out holographically. They ranged from blueprints of the building to technical drawings of the spindly-looking robots that managed the place. As if to emphasize its ability to contain malcontented mentalists, it ended with a security camera's shot of the Brain Trust's latest occupant, the Britannian Emperor, awaiting a possible hearing before the International Criminal Court in the Hague. He looked distinctly unhappy as he brooded in his cell, his stately uniform traded in for the cassock-like garb of the penitentiary which combined a prisoner's coveralls with a hospital gown, held together with Velcro straps as were his slippers.

"'Automated'… so there's no people at all involved in it?" Stewart asked, not entirely convinced that was for the best.

"The computer system is checked and managed constantly by an I.T. team located within a police station several miles from the prison itself," Batman explained. "Additionally, there are administrators on site with formidable psionic powers of their own."

"That's good. Who are they?"

Hesitantly, Batman continued. "The chief administrator is Hank Pemberton, a.k.a. Brainwave, Jr."

Many around the table who knew of the young man responded rather favorably. Hank was the son of debutante Merry Pemberton and nephew of _wunderkind_ Sylvester Pemberton, Jr., both masked adventurers in their youth. Unknowingly, he was also the son of Henry King, a powerful psychic who was one of the earliest super-criminals, The Brain Wave. Combining the best of his parents, Hank had tremendous mental powers and was civic-minded, using his inheritance alongside a band of young super-heroes as Brainwave, Jr. Father and son inevitably met and fought, but finally reconciled not long before the former was killed. The Brain Wave psychically passed his remaining powers onto his son to continue his work, and Hank in turn changed his name to Henry King, Sr. to honor him. However, his team eventually fragmented, after which the younger Brainwave faded from the limelight. Having evidently returned to his birth name, this was the first many had heard of Brainwave, Jr. in some time.

"You said there were two. Who's the junior administrator?"

Surprisingly, Batman mumbled the other person's name, causing many to ask him to repeat it. Taking a breath, he said aloud, "Lia Briggs… Looker."

What followed was a chorus of disbelieving exclamations and cries of annoyance that she'd been given such a responsibility. "I know, I know, but she has the skills necessary for the job," Batman responded not-so-testily, as it was a decision he rather doubted himself.

Born Emily Briggs, Looker had been a plain-looking corporate administrator who'd fantasized about being glamorous and beautiful. Her dreams and more came true when she was kidnapped by agents of a subterranean society, whose royal family she descended from. The rituals of her coronation turned Emily into a stunning redhead, as well as imbuing her with a smorgasbord of psionic powers. Rescued by Batman and a loose confederation of independent heroes, she'd used her gifts to seek careers as both a supermodel named Lia and a super-heroine called Looker. Unfortunately, the two roles often overlapped, and to many who worked with her it was obvious she just wanted to bask in the public adulation. It hadn't proven all she'd hoped it would be, however, and she disappeared after the failure of her marriage. Now she'd too returned, following a career that combined her powers with her former occupation.

"Well, I suppose that handles them, but it's not just Chuck and his doomsday cult that's of concern," Hal Jordan said, trying to sway the meeting away from further discussion of the failed heroine. "There's that woman who tackled Red Tornado, and also the kid. What do we plan to do with them?"

"'That woman' is Major Cecile Croomy from an elite group of the Britannian Knightmare engineering corps," Hawkman responded, having escorted her to their earthbound embassy, the Hall of Justice, and the proper authorities along with his wife. "We explained that she was a noncombatant who got caught up while we were returning from our missions to Earth-B, so she's likely in protective custody right now."

At the mention of Croomy, a still from the Watchtower's security cameras appeared, showing a woman in a tan-brown female officer's uniform lying on the floor. Looking at it, Black Canary frowned but said nothing. She'd been there when Red Tornado returned with his accidental captive, and had followed her when Croomy made a run for it. Their brief chase ended when they ran out onto one of the Watchtower's observation decks, where after trading a few blocks and blows, the major stopped when she realized they were in outer space. The look on the gray-eyed woman's face, like a deer caught in the headlights, right before fainting had stayed with her. As such, she wasn't too happy with the thought of the major in a military prison.

Her thoughts were broken by a derisive snort from Green Arrow. "That's what Uncle Sam called the Japanese internment camps," he said, causing Wonder Woman to wince in remembrance. "Whatever you told them, chances are she's being sent to Leavenworth if they're not wringing her dry of what she can tell about building those walking tanks of theirs. Either way, you can bet she's in the back of a military transport with a bag over her head right now."

"Whatever her tasks were, she's still military," Captain Atom retorted. "She knew the risks when she joined. That includes not receiving the kid gloves treatment if she got caught."

"I think the Britannians are taught something different when they sign up," Stewart responded, "and the likelihood of getting caught isn't one of them."

"Or staying caught for that matter," Aquaman added. "Sir Bradley incited two riots with his men while he was kept in Guantanamo Bay. And no one can say if it was an honest escape attempt or if he just wanted to see how many people he could get killed. I doubt his men could tell us either, but they did as they were told anyway, and that can be dangerous."

"We offered to return Major Croomy as a sign of good faith," the Martian Manhunter reported. "The suggestion was instigated by comments from Prince Lelouch, although he was clearly referring to his sister."

Croomy's image was replaced with one of Princess Nunnally, taken from when Zatanna had just returned with her along with an armload of schoolbooks and some hastily packed luggage. Unconscious in her wheelchair, her face in repose, she looked even more innocuous than Major Croomy. She was an enchanted princess out of Brothers Grimm, not of the same royal bloodline as a family of conquerors.

"The Team is now looking after her at Mount Justice," J'onn explained. "I felt a group closer in age to her peers would be less intimidating and more effective in questioning her than any of us."

Beside him, Superman's expression lightened significantly at hearing she was being treated well. He looked forward to what the young princess had to offer, but didn't need it so badly to upset the girl if possible. As curious as he was, he felt partly responsible for her.

He'd found the bunker beneath Ashford Academy while on the final sweep of Earth-B. Having broken the mission's observe-only rules before to covertly aid some Japanese being harassed in the ruins of old Tokyo, the Man of Steel had flown by the boarding school where Prince Lelouch had been living in secret for many years out of curiosity more than anything else. At first, all he found was a fairly ordinary upscale prep school with dormitories and classes in the middle school to high school range. There was an inordinate amount of afterschool clubs, some of an esoteric nature at that, but he found nothing suspicious.

That was until he'd started examining the sewer lines and maintenance ducts beneath the school with his "X-ray" vision. Contrary to popular belief, lead lining did not somehow make structures invisible to him, but rather made them even more apparent than if he'd been deliberately looking for them. As such, he easily stumbled upon what looked to be a bomb shelter large enough to constitute a good-sized suburban house. It was beneath the school library, connected by an elevator shaft hidden behind a moving bookcase, whose hinges were freshly oiled.

While he could clearly see the bunker, he was still unable to see inside, nor hear anything within due to sound baffles also in its construction. At the time, he'd made a mental note of it which he passed onto the Team later when Operation Alpha was being planned. He made it a secondary mission for someone to sneak onto the academy grounds and access the bunker, find out what if anything Governor Lelouch was using it for. Aqualad had assigned it to Zatanna, who surprised everyone by popping up with a young girl who appeared to be the Britannian princess who'd supposedly died during the invasion of Japan. It was mostly conjecture, but it seemed that like her brother, she'd attended school under an assumed name during the intervening years, then went underground when the previous governor, a royal celebutante named Clovis, accidentally found out Lelouch was still alive.

_I'm curious to know how he managed that_, Superman thought. Part of the current governor's mystique was that he'd lived as a commoner for many years; it should be elementary to anyone that knew of him during that time that the girl who'd been his sister was also the "dead" princess. And yet, he seemed to have managed to hush that up quite well. _I don't know how he did it, but Lelouch has got my glasses-as-a-disguise trick beat hands down_, he was willing to concede.

His attention then returned as Red Tornado spoke again. "And you are curious to determine the extent that her afflictions are due to Code/Geass powers?" he asked Manhunter.

"It is a possibility. While her physical handicaps are sure to be quite genuine, her psychological impediment could be another matter. There is great reason to believe the attack upon her home in which she was crippled and her mother, an imperial consort named Marianne Lamperouge, assassinated was an internal affair contrary to the official version of events. Furthermore, the Emperor's files state that Marianne was fully aware of the Ragnarok program, so her death may have been related somehow. I would be surprised if, one way or another, the princess has not been touched by Code/Geass."

"Speaking of which, did you find out if the governor of Japan has it, too?" Captain Atom asked.

"Yes," the Martian answered. "I was able to feel Prince Lelouch's mind, so he is not in possession of a Code. And the variations of his psychic aura indicate he has some manner of Geass, likely some manner of hypnosis as Kid Flash reported. I am unaware of the specifics of its form and function, as I restrained myself to picking up his surface thoughts and emotions, and they were entirely focused towards his sister."

"Okay, he has a Geass power, so he might be involved in Ragnarok, but then why wasn't he worried about us screwing it up? He's also lying to the world that his sister's dead and was really keeping her hid, and that's what he's concerned about," Plastic Man recounted, considering all the facts. His elastic face twitched noticeably as a thought occurred. "Could lead have protected the kid from the Emperor's plans?"

J'onn saw where he was going with this, and was sorry to disappoint. "Lead shielding would have given her no protection at all. As it stands, I do not believe Lelouch was aware of the Ragnarok program; like most of the royal court, he was genuinely surprised and confused when we revealed the Emperor's underground facility in China."

"So-oo-oo," Captain Marvel sounded out, "he's been granted a Geass-power, but isn't involved with Ragnarok. He's met a Code-bearer, that's for sure. A Code-bearer who's given a Geass to someone close to the Emperor but with no reason to like him. Either it's a complete coincidence, or we have a Code-bearer who's opposed to the Emperor's plan."

Batman nodded at Cap's reasoning. "A strong possibility. What we've learned of Lelouch suggests he may have a secret agenda, one whose goals compliment our own. I would recommend approaching him on that possibility, so long as we can show that his sister is not being held as a bargaining tool, nor is she being mistreated. However, whatever deal we make with him, we would have to treat it the same as any other truce with one of our enemies."

Many Leaguers nodded their heads ruefully as they remembered times when they and an adversary had to put aside mutual enmity to survive. Such rare occasions carried certain rules: _Stay cautious_. _Be aware of any attempt at betrayal should the situation be bent in their favor_. _Once the crisis is over, trust that the status quo is back in effect_. All enforced an unfortunately very old and very real law, that cooperation did not necessarily breed friendship or respect.

As these thoughts rounded the room, the Dark Knight privately considered the sequence of events he'd developed from facts and hearsay regarding the Lamperouge children. The assassination of their mother. The sham of an investigation. Exile to a foreign land that war is declared upon just months later. Their apparent demise and the accidental(?) discovery of the brother years later. It was all so much like a story arc from _Dark Mansion _or _The Brave and the Bold_, and yet it was _too_ ridiculous to be anything but the truth, as counterintuitive as that sounded.

_Orphaned and abandoned by men beyond the reach of justice. Years to plot and plan retribution. That's the kind of deadly formula that produces an avenger determined to rebalance the scales, one who's steadily obtained the right positioning to see his mission through, _he concluded. _But then again, who am _I _to judge?_ Internally, he shook his head at the spider's web of tragedy and consequence that people could weave about themselves, a _trans_-universal truth it seemed, as he returned his attention to the meeting.

"Great!" said Cap, happy to have been of service. "Although that still leaves the matter of what to do with the princess in the meantime." Glancing at Green Arrow, he remembered his accusations of the engineer being either mistreated or exploited. "If we handed her over to the government, will they stick her in an orphanage or something?"

"How we treat prisoners speaks of our character," Wonder Woman said, speaking to Cap more graciously than before. "While we should limit her movements, that does not mean we cannot house her in a manner respectful of her status." She stopped as if in thought. "Themyscira would satisfy both requirements, and could be an educational experience for her as well."

Beneath her mask, Hawkwoman rolled her eyes. "You want to use her for an experiment with that purple-ray device of yours, don't you? You want to try to reconstruct her legs with it?" she demanded, her tone equally scathing and doubtful.

The Amazon's eyes narrowed as she returned the winged warrior's glare. "You can hardly argue that previous experiments haven't yielded positive results."

As she said that, Hawkman looked over his shoulder and experimentally flexed one of his wings. His wife caught the motion, reminding her of an incident that, if not for Wonder Woman's would-be cure-all device, would have seen it amputated. Still, she refused to back down.

"I still say you were just lucky," she fairly hissed. "That wouldn't work again in a million years."

Wonder Woman crossed her arms with a smug look. "As long as you're both more careful, it doesn't have to."

Aquaman smirked sardonically and shook his head at their exchange. He stopped as the thought occurred to offer the hospitality of Atlantis, but decided against it. The deep water pressure and need for scuba equipment were constant impediments to visiting surface-dwellers, even healthy ones.

Back near the head of the table, Superman asked, "Anyone else know of a stately manor available to her?" with a facetious inflection in his voice, as Batman fairly simmered nearby.

Proposals for the princess's living arrangements were bandied about briefly. The most likely solution, it was recommended, was to leave her the responsibility of the Team, and enroll her in a local school under an assumed name. Another option was to ask Queen Perdita of Vlatava to take her in, seeing as she was royalty herself.

A restored monarchy, Vlatava was one of many central European countries that had chosen to serve as a buffer zone between the Russian mafia and the international crime cartel, Intergang. Both were dangerous as is, and preventing a French Connection-style pipeline of narcotics, arms, and various other illegal sundries had obtained Vlatava and its child-monarch no little influence. This came at the price of assassination attempts courtesy of her uncle with Intergang backing of course, which she'd been saved from by League members and associates. All in a day's work, but Perdita felt indebted to them for it, and would probably be open to hosting the princess for them. That Nunnally was close in age to her didn't hurt, as she would probably be open to a friend with a similar background.

"Currently, Princess Nunnally believes herself to be in the hands of European agents," J'onn noted. "Depending on how truthful we wish to be with her about the nature of Britannia's current war, time spent in either country would only reinforce that belief."

Across the table, Captain Marvel chuckled. "Yeah, if we sent her to an American school without telling her, she'd probably figure something was wrong the first time she heard the Pledge of Allegiance."

"They still do that?" Captain Atom and Green Arrow had asked simultaneously, but for very different reasons, reflected in their tones of voice. They each caught onto that and gave one another dirty looks.

Further away, Batman grimaced beneath his mask. _"The Pledge of Allegiance"? I didn't even think about that_. To cover for himself, he used this to segue onto another matter the League needed to address.

"The idea isn't flawless, but approaching Queen Perdita on the matter could also soothe some international nerves. There have always been those who've seen the Justice League as the Justice League _of America_. For reasons of pride or paranoia, they question the United Nations allowing us to lead the investigation of the Knightmare Frame incursions, which to them is as good as to leaving the United States in charge. The handling of the princess could be taken as a sign of our commitment to sharing responsibilities with the global community."

A number of faces tensed at the idea. It sounded like they were using the princess for political gain, a few voiced. That may be a cynical attitude to take, but he couldn't disagree.

Superman sighed heavily, knowing full well that the nonpartisan solidarity that was in effect right after the invasion was now dying. He'd been acting as liaison to the President, and so had his ear to the ground on rumblings in the Pentagon and other corridors that mattered. There was always a vaguely antagonistic relationship between the Justice League and the military hierarchy of most countries, and the U.S. Defense Department was no different.

While "grateful" for their assistance in spearheading actions against Britannia, the likes of Eiling and Lane were no-less vocal that they handle things from here on out. Those who were more… "pragmatic" would be the polite term… would simply attach Tarnhelms onto some nuclear warheads, set them to appear in vital areas of the Empire, and call it a day. Others, however, wanted to reverse-engineering Knightmare Frames so they could build their own mecha infantry, not just for the current crisis but also future warfare. If what Green Arrow suggested about Major Croomy was true, they'd soon have their wish granted.

_And once America has them, _everyone_ will want them_, Superman thought as he envisioned a brand-new arms race in the near future.

In an attempt to keep further posturing by politicians to a minimum, he then suggested they have their own summit meeting with international super-heroes. He and others had already met with the likes of Godiva, the Mermaiden, Seraph, Rising Sun, and the Legionary to keep their relief efforts coordinated. Having an official gathering at the Hall of Justice or elsewhere would engender continued public support while silencing most opportunists as their countries were being, in a roundabout manner, kept in the loop.

"A good idea, Superman, but first can we settle how we're going to handle the princess?" asked the Flash.

"And the kids from the Geass cult for that matter," added Captain Marvel.

"I'm still waiting for us to settle the discussion on an alliance with Europe," muttered John Stewart.

"Or the insurgency," added Wonder Woman crossly.

"We have a litany of topics that require our attention," noted Red Tornado, "including some new numbers from the Erdel Initiative regarding the Zeta-Shield proposal, as well as projections from the United Kingdom on a refined device for disrupting Sakuradite-fueled batteries."

"_Correct_," said Batman harshly as he stood up. "We have many things to discuss, and we have to reach an agreement upon _all_ of them. And it won't do any good to continue procrastinating as we've done so far."

Around the table, Leaguers exchanged looks, bewildered by Batman's accusation, before returning their attention to him as he continued speaking, more calmly this time.

"I can't be the only one who noticed it, but we've repeatedly gone on tangents throughout this meeting. As soon as we begin to argue or point out the flaws in one topic, it drifts onto another and the process begins again. I'm as guilty of this as anyone," he said, remembering his clumsy segue towards international politics to save face just a minute ago.

"I think it's because we all fear seeing any discussion through to the end, for fear of what conclusion we may draw. We are not facing a criminal plot or some other danger where those at fault and the means to resolve the situation are clear this time. The menace we face is different now, as is our role in addressing it. We are fighting a war now, and it's taking us out of our comfort zones. This means decisions of the like we've never had to make before, which carries the danger of the Justice League going down a dark path."

For a moment, his gaze dropped from his assembled teammates. _Teammates_, he repeated as he inwardly chided himself. He hadn't joined the League out of some feeling of camaraderie, or wish to take his war against crime to a new level. He'd grown up during an era when politicians, successors to those who'd destroyed the Justice Society, had made "hero" a dirty word. A hero was a freak that could not be trusted and may be working to undermine the community, they'd said. And in his quest to make sure the tragedy he'd suffered wouldn't befall another child, a Sisyphean task to begin with, that's exactly what he'd made himself.

He had not yet realized that when the League was born, the day when he, Superman, and a handful of others narrowly ousted a band of aliens from using Earth as a backdrop for their civil war. No, all he saw were a collection of potential quislings that were inviting him to join them, to be within arm's reach where he could do the most damage if and when his suspicions were justified. In time, the truth had shown itself, and he'd felt like a fool. It was his deep, dark secret, and he meant to keep it that way, even as he worked to atone for it. Now he needed to maintain the organization he once felt would be his duty to destroy.

"As it's been pointed out, the moral horizon here is not so straightforward. Indeed, it is not justice that is our goal, but victory. This means we must change how we've done things up until now, but without changing ourselves. As we plot and strategize and compromise, we must continue to seek opportunities to negotiate, to reach an understanding, to extend mercy, even if the move is not reciprocated. To respect the living even as we avenge the dead. This is the only way can we achieve victory and still be heroes. This is the only way we can continue to call ourselves the Justice League."

The table had quieted down as everyone considered his words solemnly. They'd assumed a role that meant decisions would have to be made. Hard decisions that would have impact not just on Earth-B, but possibly on their own world, their own people, as well. It was a responsibility, and they wouldn't be the heroes they claimed to be if they started running from that now, just because the right answers were not so obvious anymore.

The League had done good work, no doubt about it, but there was room for improvement. They'd review what had happened, and learn from their mistakes. Certainly, the Britannians' rulers were doing just that; they'd have to be fools to underestimate them at this point. Whether this meant the Empire would abandon its plans for their world, or seek a more subtle route to conquest, only time would tell. The League could only hope for the best while preparing for the worst. They were in a holding action now as the ball was in the royals' court, and until they made their decision known, there was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._


	8. Chapter Seven

**Knights or Justice?**

**Chapter 7: "Kings' Corner"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

"**The Brain Trust", location classified **

**United States of America **

**The Retaliation plus three days**

"I am unaccustomed to being made to wait," the man growled imperiously as the entrance slid open, revealing the silhouettes of two people looking into the room at him.

It was a common enough waiting room, utilitarian with whitewashed walls and a faint odor of disinfectant mixed in with pine scent. The upholstered seats, end tables, and potted plants were obviously a last minute add-on to make the place look nicer than it was. All in all, it could not have been more different from the Grand Hall in Pendragon where he usually received visiting dignitaries and supplicants. Yet Charles zi Britannia carried himself no differently than if he sat in the royal throne room, surrounded by his loyal Knights of the Round with the complete assembly of the royal court at his feet.

His current state of appearance helped carry this attitude. His mane of hair was in pristine condition as ever, combed and rolled into rows like a judge's wig, with not a single strand out of place. And far from the prison-issued smock he was on visual record as wearing, instead he had on his standard ensemble – greatcoat, boots, cloak, aiguillette and epaulettes – cleaned and arrayed upon him crisp, polished, and neat enough that the most fastidious of men would drive themselves to distraction trying to find fault. All of this had been done by the prison's robotic servitors, and while they lacked the obsequious nature of his personal attendants back home, he couldn't help but think of getting a set for himself in the future.

It wasn't a question of "if" he returned to Earth-1, nor did he feel that it was a factor of "when". It was just that he wouldn't allow his mind to go in the direction of this world being his home from now on. Although with every moment he spent in this embarrassing predicament it became harder to do so.

On and off he'd composed his reproach to Prince Schneizel when they finally met again, but internally he remained honest with himself. _I am to blame for this_, he thought. _I played the impatient tyrant when I should have watched, waited, and learned, and I was the silent, austere monarch when I should have demanded swift action._

Even as he'd ordered Schneizel to mount an expedition, the Emperor had already planned to send a raiding party as soon as a good, plump world – technologically a step behind but not Neolithically so – was found. He wanted a sequence of raids, in fact, to be held until such time that some poor fool was caught, leaving open the possibility that his Tarnhelm would be studied and replicated. After a pitiful counterattack by the Other-Earth's inhabitants using some tanks or perhaps even a bomber or two, he would then go public with the discovery of parallel worlds, one of which had attacked the Empire, thereby giving him the righteous leverage to open a whole new theater of war.

Charles had swiftly ordered the attack on the reality designated Earth-2, and just as swiftly ordered a moratorium on further operations when Bradley and his command failed to return. He'd done so with the intention of affording the other-worlders time and opportunity to make the next move. And sadly, they had as his current locale attested.

It had actually mattered little to him that the Other-Earth's history was born out of a successful rebellion by Washington, other than the incentive it gave his soldiers to stir up trouble. Without any manner of humanoid mechanical war machines in use or even in development, it would have served nicely in keeping the military and his more ambitious progeny occupied while he and his elder brother made preparations for the Ragnarok alignment.

He rolled the word fondly around in his mind._ Ragnarok – the death of the Gods, the death of lies, and one way or another, the death of Mankind as it is in all its self-destructive ignominy. All with the help of an ancient science whose origins and founders are lost in the midst of times. _

When that green-skinned humanoid first appeared before him, his first thoughts were that V.V.'s experiments had done something, and the last of the Thought Elevators' lost and forgotten builders had come calling. But then he had spoken…

"_Another big man..." said the beetle-browed vision after giving him an analytical look, his voice deep and resonant yet patient-sounding. In contrast to these reflective features, the Emperor could see that this green man too was built like a linebacker beneath his cloak. "… who needs the world to be small." _

… and with the arrival of his red-headed strumpet and that human gob of gum, he knew everything he'd worked and sacrificed for was endangered.

Now, _that_ he could blame on someone else.

_The Justice League… *feh*,_ he thought. How he hated them, perhaps even more so than the Gods themselves. Their sanctimonious name proclaimed them to be custodians of justice, yet their very appearance was a lie, with their code names and masks. _How can justice exist side-by-side with lies? Only in pure, unvarnished truth, free of any sentiment, can there be justice. Hypocrites, the lot of them_, he concluded, _with no right to judge me. _

Yet, they had judged him, hence his current dilemma. He was trapped on Earth-2, in a prison on the other side of the looking glass. A looking glass that laid within the looking glass of yet another looking glass as he remembered the chart one of Schneizel's scientists, a former Three, had concocted. And on the other side of the original mirror? His sons and daughters. Odysseus, Schneizel, Cornelia, Lelouch, Guinivere, Euphemia, Oscar, Castor and Pollux, and so many others. All of whom he'd made no secret they were his pawns in the game of global domination and the accumulation of power. All by now aware of his capture, and all by now having their own individual reactions.

Lelouch, more than likely, would simply use the opportunity to flee Pendragon forever. Filch his sister from wherever he'd stashed her away and disappear into the night, never to be seen again. And as for the rest…

_How long before they declare me dead, and set about feeding on the carcass of my apparent legacy? How long before they grapple for the throne? Even with Schneizel's network of influence and Cornelia's control over the military heads, it will be a second Emblem of Blood. _

But he wasn't dead, not yet anyway, although deploying Bradley had likely earned him whatever death penalty was in effect on this world. He could still feel the faint psychic connection he had to his brother even without the benefit of a Thought Elevator or other Providence artifact, and with that damnable inhibitor collar removed his Geass could be engaged again. And he did so, testing it and feeling the light, almost electrical spark behind his left eye, familiar and reassuring as the two people stepped through the doorway and…

_God damn it to Hell, I cannot catch a break!_ he thought churlishly, gnashing his teeth at the sight of the ebon-tined goggles the man and woman wore as they stepped into the light.

The woman was another redhead, but certainly not the pubescent wench who'd flung his minions about like dolls in a wind tunnel. No, she was a full-grown woman, trim and shapely, which her chic business suit emphasized. While the goggles detracted from her face, she was surely beautiful enough to hold a place in his imperial harem easily.

The man could not have been any older than she, his body thin but not fragile as with Lelouch. In fact, aside from his strawberry-red locks, he reminded him of Schneizel for good or ill. He wore a suit but of a relaxed cut, perhaps in an attempt to present himself as upper class and yet a "man of the people" as was the popular term in Europe. The only outstanding article of clothing was his tie, deep blue with a series of yellow lines which zigzagged in sharp curves like the display of an EEG monitor.

"'Charles zi Britannia, emperor of the Holy Empire of Britannia,'" the man read from a folder he carried with him. "You've been a busy boy out there," he added, referring to the damage done outside, where reconstruction from his raids was still ongoing in some areas apparently.

"Allow us to introduce ourselves," he continued as he took the seat opposite the Emperor. "We are…"

"I did not give you leave to sit in my presence," Charles fairly growled as he reclined in his own seat, maintaining his position as a king among commoners. "Besides, your names are already known to me. Pemberton and Briggs, the overseers of this place I've been brought to."

Earlier when he'd first arrived, a tedious introductory film had been shown to him, evidently for the "benefit" of all newcomers to the facility. It had explained the automated systems that served in place of guards and other manned positions within this prison, an insurance against personnel falling prey to the inmates' innumerable mind-bending powers. This left only two living beings to administer, Hank Pemberton and Lia Briggs, who had their own psychic resources should the need for discipline arise.

The film had also shown a cross-section of the facility, revealing it to be of medium size, neither a tiny county jailhouse for ne'er-do-wells awaiting their time in court nor a massive penitentiary for housing masses of convicted criminals. It was also rather dome-shaped, much like the cranium of a human skull. It hadn't been remarked on, but he was certain the construction was essential for keeping the inmates' powers contained and from influencing anyone on the outside. A precaution he imagined could be reversed with a little work.

"'Supervisor' is more like it, Your Majesty." It was the woman, Briggs, who responded, leaning against the opposite wall without a hint of decorum. Her voice carried a hint of the English Isles he hadn't expected.

Before him, Pemberton had done nothing to correct his posture before the potentate. In fact, he was making a tsking sound through his teeth. "Now, now, your lordship. We're your hosts, after all. We understand – and appreciate – that you're royalty, but still… putting on airs like that, surrounded by all kinds of other mentalists…"

He held out his hand palm up before raising it into the air. In response, one of the end tables shook and then hovered two feet off the ground without any indication of support or suspension. It simply floated in midair while Pemberton first bent his fingers like claws then snapped his hand shut. Almost as swiftly, the end table collapsed in upon itself with a sudden, terrible sound of wood fibers tearing and snapping. As Pemberton continued to squeeze his hand, the broken pieces ground against one another, little puffs of sawdust shooting out here and there. Finally, Pemberton relaxed his hand and rested it back upon his armrest. In response, the destroyed piece of furniture crashed to the floor, a sorry pile of pulverized particleboard.

"It could prove hazardous to your health," the warden concluded with a thin smile.

Charles was not as put off by this as most would be. Children whose Geass resulted in variations of psychokinesis were a common result of his brother's experiments. Seeing them used destructively was nothing new to him, so in answer to this display of power, the Emperor merely continued to glare balefully at Pemberton, albeit without saying another word.

Pemberton seemed to find his attitude amusing, as he began to chuckle. "Made from sterner stuff, aren't you? I imagine you would have to be, based on what the Justice League had to share about your reality. Handling all that power and prestige, just to keep your own children and peers at bay while you tinkered with those ruins."

He suddenly leaned forward, speaking in a hushed tone. "Do you honestly think you could have made it work?"

Regally, Charles crossed his arms over his broad chest, as it was obvious what Pemberton was asking about. "I am not in the habit of making mistakes, nor do I tolerate those who do."

The warden returned to his reclining position, waving his hand in a careless manner. "I'm sure you would have done your best based on what you know, but that's no guarantee of success." As he said this, Pemberton kicked one leg over an armrest, sprawling indolently in a way that increasingly reminded the Emperor of the foppish Earl Asplund.

Again Pemberton stretched out his hand, causing Charles to steel himself for whatever happened next. This time it was nothing so spectacular as tiny blue flames which popped up in his hand. They resolved into a series of thumb-sized glowing human figures who proceeded to dance frantically upon his palm.

"You based everything on a science that you had to develop yourself without a full understanding of the relics you sought to utilize. Now, it's possible everything could have gone right, and you would have been at the epicenter of a quantum leap in evolution, the human race going overnight from a slapdash gaggle of individuals with a ten-percent brain power capacity they barely ever used, to one massive psychic gestalt, a uni-mind whose every atom of being a whirlwind of transient thought to make the visionaries of the Renaissance weep."

As he spoke, the tiny dancers had merged into one larger figure, visibly a girl in the dress of an Arabian belly-dancer, whose fluid movements were more distinct with a subtle grace the tiny troupe hadn't shown. After a moment, the dancing girl suddenly collapsed back into an inch-high bacchanal, whose movements were now jerky. Several of them fell off the ends of Pemberton's hand, having wandered too far or accidentally been pushed. Either way, they flickered out like fireflies as they drifted to the floor.

Just as his illusionary display had changed in tune, so had Pemberton's little discourse. "Or you could just as easily blown a fuse in the brain of every man, woman, and child alive, leaving them even more mindless than they were before." With this pronouncement, he then shook his hand as if he'd just washed it and was fanning the excess moisture off, the few remaining dancers fading away too as they sailed off into the air.

"A pity," Charles agreed, "but preferable to the endless cycle of deceit and self-destruction I have seen."

"Such single-mindedness… or does that sound too much like paronomasia?" Pemberton said with a chuckle.

"I'd say it applies," Briggs said with a hint of respect in her voice. "Unafraid of the consequences, setting your sights firmly on the benefit you could produce. You're braver than us, Your Majesty. Higher-minded, too. All Henry here and I want is money, power, and the respect they bring. For everything we have, we are simple beings with simple goals. Hardly altruistic aims, especially not of your caliber."

Charles narrowed his eyes suspiciously. The content of their conversation so far held indicators that they sought a bribe from him, yet they had to know he was in no position to readily award them anything. And what he did have on hand to provide did not fit with their waxing about wealth and power.

"What is it you want from me?"

"_From_ you, m'lord? No, no, no. You should be asking what it is we can do _for_ you."

Briggs smiled disarmingly as she sidled up to Pemberton, perching on an armrest as she plucked the goggles from her eyes. "What our employers can do for you, to be precise. They, like you, have a vivid interest in the continued evolution of mankind."

That actually caused the Emperor to smirk, as it showed their ignorance of his true mission in life. Pemberton saw that and smiled deferentially.

"You misunderstand us. We're not talking about the lip service you've given Social Darwinism." He shrugged his shoulders dismissively at that. "A bunch of stodgy socio-political nonsense you spoon-fed to the crusty upper crust of your realm. We understand your real goal was to achieve _true_ evolution, the enhancement of all of mankind."

"By fair means or foul," continued Briggs. "For its own good, of course."

"Of course," Pemberton agreed, taking back up the topic. "Natural selection is a reality of evolution, but just one, and an ineffective one at that. All that nasty running around, screaming and bleeding and fighting. So exhausting. And for what? Some lucky handful of ersatz Adam-and-Eves live long enough to propagate, continuing random entanglements of their own DNA strands, as if that's any guarantee of improvement. Toss in modern science with weapons in one hand and medicine in the other so the weak and stupid have a level playing field, and the whole thing becomes even more problematic."

"Ragnarok would bypass all of that," the Emperor interjected, Pemberton's thoughts having matched his own conclusions when he'd bothered to give the rigmarole he'd habitually spewed any real consideration. "All would benefit, all would be made one. A whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Not even the dead would be exempt from the ascension of mankind."

"And that's what you really want, Charles," Briggs said appreciatively. "To raise up humanity, not to divide it. To make Man… see the light."

The Emperor almost imperceptibly relaxed at this, the safety of himself and his sibling becoming less of an issue with their every word. If they wished to utilize his and V.V.'s studies for some secret agenda of their own, perhaps even clear up holes in their own work that experimentation with Geass and their search for C.C. or other Code-bearers had demanded, then perhaps it was possible to bring things around to his advantage after all.

But who here would be curious about Ragnarok, and ignore the imminent threat his empire posed? Were they a renegade faction within the Washingtonian government? Traitors in the employ of a rival nation? Was their intention real or were they curious of making Ragnarok into a weapon, to utilize the possibility of erasing or dominating people's minds en masse? The answers lay within their "employers", and to understand who they may be, he first had to know…

"Who are you?"

Pemberton and Briggs exchanged a sly smile each. "As I said earlier, we are your hosts, Emperor Charles," Pemberton answered him as he gestured magnanimously to his co-supervisor. "Allow me to introduce ourselves. This is Angela Hawkins III…"

To his credit, Charles's expression didn't budge a bit as a glowing line suddenly scurried across her body from one side to another like a tiny flame eating up a thin piece of paper. As it moved, her wavy red tresses and business suit was erased, replaced with slick black hair and a green body suit, tight as a glove and of the same material. Less appealing was the change to her face, her peaches-and-cream complexion now a pale bluish pallor like a drowning victim. Additionally, her makeup had become black lipstick along with eyeliner and mascara forming the Eye of Horus around both of her own.

"… alias Phobia."

The former Ms. Briggs grabbed the sides of the olive-green cloak she now wore as she stood and gave a little bow. "And a possessor of noble blood myself, by the by," she said, giving him an appraising look as she straightened up.

"And I…"

The Emperor returned his attention to Pemberton, and felt his heartbeat skip at the phantasm now before him. Pemberton's face had gone slack with his jaw hanging slightly, as all expression was now conveyed by the translucent visage that now wavered around it. It was the head of man suffering an extreme case of macrocephaly from the looks of things, the circumference of his bald cranium almost twice what could possibly be normal. This caused the face to seem pinched and smaller than it should be, although that was probably preferable. Like the man's pate, it was completely hairless without eyebrows or even a hint of stubble, the eyes hidden behind a set of oversized mirror-like glasses perched on a hawkish stub of a nose.

While Pemberton's physical mouth remained agape, the lips of the spectral face now moved ever so slightly, whispering words that Charles did not so much as hear but rather felt them appear within his mind.

_I am Henry King, _Senior_, a.k.a. Brain Wave_, the ghostly visage concluded, its spectral lips splitting into a toothy grin. _And I'm your new best friend. _

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._


	9. Chapter Eight

**Knights or Justice?**

**Chapter 8: "Requiem for a Zero"**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

**Imperial Palace, the City of Pendragon**

**Holy Empire of Britannia, mainland (a.k.a. Area 1)**

**The Retaliation plus five days**

"Is everyone friends again, Your Lordship?" asked Dr. Dorado.

Kanon Maldini's response was cheerful and disarming. Most would have taken his response as insincere with the intention of making the other person squirm for so flippant a remark. But Dorado had spoken in the same detached monotone he'd always used as of late. That in tandem with his gloomy features, and Kanon dismissed any sense of disrespect on his part.

"Just a tiff, no more," he said. "Brothers and sisters with different views on how to approach matters. After all, what family doesn't have its difficulties?" Of course, he had trouble not visualizing Cain and Abel as he said so.

As the meeting had finally broken up, Kanon had stepped away from his liege, giving him room so he could sooth frayed nerves among his siblings. The young earl had used this as an opportunity to congratulate the various Tarnhelm Project scientists for explaining the basis of their work and how it impacted on current events. (And, no, they had nothing to worry about any of the imperial court looking to take a pound of flesh out of their hides.)

Dorado had stood separated from the rest, all waiting their chance to be glad-handed, while he packed his things away. All manner of scientific doodads had been brought in to demonstrate the evolution of the Tarnhelm and the science at work, which had unfortunately brought about the current sad state of affairs. As Kanon approached, Dorado had picked up one such instrument, a homemade-looking handheld device that seemed to be acting up. The former Three frowned as a single light flashed on and off randomly. Tapping it on its side, he finally shrugged and, clicking the off-button, tossed it into a satchel.

Maldini had been a silent witness to this as Dorado glumly continued about packing up his equipment when he'd unexpectedly spoken.

"As it stands," Dorado continued, "I hope I didn't bore anyone too much. I fear Miss Einstein and myself were distractions more than anything."

As he said so, Kanon took a glance behind himself. The same girl was now falling over herself to behave politely as his liege and Prince Lelouch introduced her to Cornelia's sister. Returning his attention, Kanon continued speaking. "She'll of course be returning to the fold at Tarnhelm, whatever may happen. His Highness, Prince Schneizel, feels that our capacity for dimensional transference in all areas needs to grow more rapidly than expected, and since she was so much help when the research hit a roadblock before…"

"Say no more, Your Lordship. Without her, all our work would have been meaningless."

"Speaking of meaninglessness," Kanon said, choosing his words carefully. "His Highness was very happy to see that you kept your commentary to the hard facts at work, doctor. Very few within the imperial family would have been as understanding as Prince Schneizel regarding your… epiphany."

Dorado's response, characteristically, was as dismal as his expression. "If I'd told them and they'd reacted negatively as you say, that would just mean there would now be another world where they _didn't_ react. As it stands, this all means there's now a series of worlds where I did share my – shall we say – philosophy, Your Lordship."

Kanon bit his tongue and blinked to prevent his eyes from rolling. _"Philosophy"?! A verbal suicide note, more like it! _

He'd been there when the Tarnhelm scientists had presented his prince with their conclusions on the mystery of Peanut's journeys, and their conclusion was astonishing. The discovery of divergent worlds meant all possible scenarios of any event in history were a reality somewhere. He among others had viewed this as something akin to divine compensation for only getting one chance to make a decision.

But where others found illumination, Dr. Dorado only saw disillusionment. He'd shocked all of them with his grim pronouncement that this effectively rendered life meaningless.

"_Hold your tongue, Number!" a scientist, one who was more stubborn than most in accepting an Honorary Britannian into their midst, snapped at him. "That's the Second Prince of the Empire you're speaking to!" _

_Dorado, at first, seemed not to have even heard him, but then, as with great reluctance, he started speaking again. _

"_Yes, yes I am speaking to a prince of the Empire… here." As he said so, he plucked up one of the ball bearings they spilled onto a table to represent the multiple Earths that theoretically – well, not so theoretical anymore – existed. He held it up, showing that it represented their world. He repeated this action with another ball bearing, then more, as he continued speaking. "And here? I'm the master and he's the servant. Here, we speak as equals. Here, we're not speaking at all, as I was never discovered and am still living in Area 3." _

_He dumped the ball bearings back onto the table, allowing them to bounce off one another as he simply pointed at them in turn. "Here, again we're not speaking, but it's because the parents of one of us, maybe both, never met and we were never born. Here, the Black Death raged out of control and the human race was exterminated. And so on and so on, the possible outcome of any event, however slight, played out." _

_Many of the scientists were aghast, other furious. Some of the latter group tried to suppress smiles as Prince Schneizel stepped forward, sure they were about to see the rising star of Dr. Eduardo L. Dorado go nova. Kanon himself wasn't sure what his master would do; the prince could often be depended on to find… unique ways of solving problems in the ranks. Unconsciously, his hand reached up to touch the left side of his face as he considered this. _

"_Facts speak for themselves, so I cannot deny the likelihood of your words, doctor," the Second Prince allowed as he spoke evenly. "That being said, these deviations from world to world are born of our actions. I cannot see how this lessens us. In fact, it emphasizes the effect that people have upon which way history marches. The impact of our choices, for better or worse." _

"_There is no 'for better', Your Highness," Dorado corrected, "and it couldn't possibly get any worse." His response, however, was not insolent as it first seemed, but rather contrite, like a doctor informing a patient his condition was terminal and incurable. "One of the supreme tenets of humanity is the fact that Man is self-aware. We have a full sense of choice, we can measure our options and make decisions, therefore holding some control over our lives. _

"_But this…" He gestured at the Tarnhelm device, as if pointing out the innumerable worlds that it granted them access. "If the results of all of our choices, of _every_ option that ever was or could have been, occur somewhere, then how can we say that we made a decision? We can't… we're not individuals making choices, we're legions of duplicates, splitting off again and again to play out each consequence of the options that come our way. _

"_As such, all our knowledge, our ingenuity, our strength is neutralized. Self-determination is rendered moot, free will becomes an illusion. We've no control, not even of our own lives. And without that control, even in its tiniest portion, life is meaningless." _

_Kanon realized here that his earlier analogy was incorrect. Listening to Dorado was more like a sailor trapped on a sinking ship in the middle of the ocean, addressing another who had not realized their plight. He looked like a broken man, which was underlined as he collapsed into a chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Sitting in the presence of royalty was simply not done, but his action was so pathetic, bereft of hope… _

_Many of the other scientists began exchanging frightened glances as they considered the implications of Dorado's theory. Even the more verbal opponents to Dorado as had spoken earlier were looking disquieted and green about the gills. Kanon found himself unnerved by the idea too, as it trivialized everything he said or did with an equivalent "him" that would take the opposite action. _

_Unbidden, an old nursery rhyme suddenly popped into his head: _

"Daisy, daisy, who shall it be?  
Who shall it be who will marry me?  
Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief,  
Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief,  
Tinker, tailor, soldier, sailor."

Apparently, they _all_ get a shot at you, young lover_, he couldn't help but think. _

_From his seat, Dorado looked up and seemed to remember he was in the presence of royalty again. "Forgive me, my lord," he piped up although he remained seated, as it wasn't his social gaffe he was apologizing for as he continued, "but there's no action to take. We're actors trapped in a play. And there is nothing – _nothing_ – that can be done to change it. We have no power. None of us do. We never did… no one ever did. We're nothing, less than Numbers. We are all… Zeroes." _

Earl Maldini still felt chills thinking about it. It had reminded him all too much of a visit to the Californian provinces as a child, where he'd experienced an earthquake. It had been minor and was over before he even realized it was happening. Still, he'd almost panicked, and been disquieted for days on end afterward. _If you can't even depend on the ground to stand still, _he'd thought,_ then what _can_ you depend on? _

As with most things in life, Prince Schneizel had taken it all in stride. He always thought several steps ahead of himself and others, which he was confident nullified a good deal of this "anything that could happen does" belief of the doctor. At least where he was concerned, that is. Anyway, he was never a man who bothered to worry about what might have been.

The Chancellor's main concern in the aftermath had been what to do about Dr. Dorado. Oh, he wasn't worried that the scientist may turn rebellious; in fact, his bleak moment of clarity displayed an ironclad belief that any impertinent action would be meaningless. The man had continued his work, dutiful as ever, but now with the air of a death row prisoner who'd accepted his fate.

No, Schneizel had been worried that the Honorary Britannian – "Or fellow Zero, as the doctor would have it," he'd once commented wryly – might be become suicidal. They couldn't have that, not while His Highness still hoped that teleportation was feasible if they tilted the original research a certain way. And since Dorado remained the only project member who seemed to have a clear understanding of the processes involved…

Kanon suppressed a chuckle, remembering attempts to solve Dorado's state of mind. At some point, he'd discreetly passed him a matchbook with a time, an address, and a password written inside the lid. It was to a very high-class, A-list only brothel in Pendragon for which he'd made an appointment for the good doctor.

He hadn't bothered to check to see if Dorado had gone or not. As it was, Dorado's morose outlook carried on as he shuffled about his lab with his head down. But then so had his life and his exemplary work continued, so who was going to complain?

"Incidentally, My Lord…"

Dorado's sudden words shook the earl from his musings. "Yes, Doctor?"

"I've been devoting thought to the current state of war with Earth-2. I've an idea, but it will require further work with Miss Einstein."

"Er, what kind of idea?" asked Kanon, feeling a sweat drop coming along.

"It depends… after the Lord Viceroy's rescue attempt is complete, will the Empire wish to continue campaigns on alternate worlds? And if so, will Earth-2 be included?"

Maldini's eyebrow rose at the deflective answer. "How does that impact on your idea?"

"I have in mind a device," he said simply. "Depending on how it is adjusted, we can use it upon ourselves, and be protected from further trans-dimensional incursions. Or it can be used on Earth-2, and trap it within its own reality, safely away from us," he answered.

After a beat he added, "Right now, it's purely theoretical, of course. An idea on the particles involved in the Tarnhelm process, and how to put a little pepper on them, as they say. To engineer such a device… well, I haven't even started on it, really."

Kanon let go of the breath he'd been holding. He was uneasy about the whole thing, as Dr. Dorado's last big idea had (A) not worked as they intended, and (B) was the _reason_ for the current war to begin with.

"I cannot say for certain which option His Highness may go for, if either." With some hesitancy, he added, "I cannot even say if His Highness will be in a position to have a voice upon the matter once Prince Lelouch returns."

The earl kept his voice steady as he answered, trying to keep out the distress at the consequences should the Emperor return. His liege had taken a lot of liberties with his post as of late, and some of the things he had said could be interpreted as treason, regardless of consideration for the Ragnarok files. His own thoughts had definitely gone in that direction, thinking it would be best for all concerned if Emperor Charles did not return, his neglectful reign in the past few years being reason enough.

"I'm sorry I cannot give a more definitive answer than that, Dr. Dorado."

It was obfuscating answer, and yet… For a split-second, he could have sworn a smile had played across the doctor's lips. But he'd blinked at the same time, so he couldn't tell if it was just a trick of the lights.

**/ * CG * /**

Dr. Eduardo Luis Dorado waited patiently as the Chancellor's boy-toy made his excuses. Or rather the man _known_ as Dr. Dorado waited patiently. It would have been quite impossible for the actual man born Eddie Dorado to have done the same, having long since rotted to bones and scraps of desiccated flesh in an Area 3 landfill.

The man using the late janitor's name continued to deal with the earl, thinking that the nobleman could save his apologies, as any fool could tell the Empire would be open to suggestions for a cure-all weapon against their latest enemies.

_And they'll come begging for it, sooner or later_, he thought. _The situation with the Justice League demands it, especially once they discover there's a spy in their midst._

His mind briefly returned to his "malfunctioning" gizmo from a minute ago. It was actually an all-in-one sensor device of his own design. The random lights were actually a Morse-style code, warning that there were traces of white dwarf star radiation in the vicinity.

_The Prion's counterpart is here, somewhere_, he'd realized, resisting the urge to look around for where he could be hiding. One of the chandeliers was the most likely place anyway, perfect for spying on the meeting. _I'll just let him have some extra rope to hang himself with before "accidentally" discovering him_, he decided. _That should keep this war from cooling off. _

After that, he'd taken in some of the other elements around the room necessary for his plans. Over the earl's shoulder, he'd seen the little green-haired nebbish who'd stuttered throughout the entire presentation, now stumbling through introductions with another of these royal-types, a slip of a girl covered in an explosion of pink and lavender lace.

She'd stood beside her former classmate, the rediscovered Prince Lelouch. The missing prince drew his eye for a moment; this had been the first he'd actually seen the boy in person and, while his military actions were impressive, he didn't seem like anything special. _One good punch, and he'd snap like a twig_, was his conclusion.

While speaking to Maldini, he'd gushed about the Einstein girl's contribution to the project as he'd made his analysis. His praise had been partially true, although her equations had actually been less than useless where the project's objectives were concerned. He already learned all he needed to know about superpositions, the decoherence factor and other minutia from memorizing Luthor's files long ago, and was perfectly capable of building upon it by himself.

What Nina had excelled in was plugging holes in the development of his new weapon. An understanding of particle physics was one thing, but the actual production of nuclear reactions, and in conjunction with Sakuradite and its unique properties so less, was laughable on this world. There'd been no Second World War here, not as he'd known it, which meant no Manhattan Project. And in answer to the Arab nations' monopoly over petroleum, Britannia had switched to solar power and geothermal resources for cheap energy. So, to get his hands on someone with working knowledge of both Sakuradite and nuclear power, he'd falsified some results and made a report utilizing some plausible-sounding gibberish which necessitated that Schneizel go look for one.

He'd been surprised when the nervy teenaged girl had been introduced as their savior, but it turned out he couldn't have asked for a better pawn. Between fear of disappointing her friend and letting everyone down, and concentrating on her work to get over her close proximity with a great big scary Number, Nina had turned out to be everything he needed, and never once suspected her contribution should have meant nothing to facilitating teleportation.

As such, he'd drawn up in his mind a rather impressive doomsday device. And while Sakuradite didn't have quite the same pop as the quantum trigger, the resultant effect would get the job done. It just needed a little more tinkering so its effects would reach global proportions. And as for building the damn thing, well, oversight would backpedal to keep weapons development brisk as the war escalated.

_Do what you will, Black Prince. Once the Justice League make themselves known, I'll have all the materials and manpower I can ask for to make Project Nidhögg a reality. _

The thought of the oncoming war reminded him of the day he and his "colleagues" had presented their findings to their sponsor and his resultant performance there. As ever, he rebuked himself at the memory of his feigned breakdown; he'd meant to just to set up a public persona that would deflect suspicion if matters turned hot. But instead…

_You let your mask slip… unprofessional, _a part of him snarled. _Being told that you're nothing isn't likely to ingratiate oneself, especially not with these Britannians._ It was something he'd known better than to do since then.

As it stood, he'd felt mildly anxious that he stepped over a line, and that the Chancellor would have him disposed of. That would necessitate faking his death and starting all over again in China or Europe. He was quite relieved when, obviously under his master's orders, Earl Maldini had palmed him a note, alerting him to a date arranged at a high-class whorehouse, one the aristocrats kept reserved for themselves, which he'd learned of while researching Pendragon.

_They'd even been expecting me. _

He'd smiled when he realized that. It had proven that he totally had the wool pulled over the prince's eyes, that Schneizel was convinced that he was just a scientist who could only see the downside of their work.

Also, it didn't hurt that, frankly, it had been awhile.

Not that any of them could hold a candle to some of his former paramours, of course. _Their best wasn't worthy to kiss the ground She-Bat flew over_, he thought.

Thinking of bats brought to mind what should have been his _magnum opus_ over reality, the truly final act, only to be thwarted. His Justice League equivalent had engaged him in a protracted fight, which turned out to be a ruse to nick his phase oscillation pistol. He'd then been exiled to an Earth perpetually frozen, either by an overextended Ice Age or nuclear winter. Either way, a dead world fit to dispose of a planet-destroying _über-_bomb like the Quantum Eigenstate Device that was transported along with him. With the interference he'd set up still blocking Earth-Prime from further visits, not without whatever extremes Batman had been able to arrange in such a short time, he'd decided to simply accept the inevitable and die. He hadn't even bothered to kick the phase oscillator away from where it lay by his feet lest he be tempted.

Or that had been the intention, at least.

For whatever reason, the Q.E.D. had let loose a short electromagnetic discharge just before it detonated. Perhaps it was due to a minor error in its construction (_thank you so damn much, Johnny Quick_). Maybe it was just part of its operation that simulations hadn't foreseen as, needless to say, they'd never bothered to test-fire it. Either way, it had been enough to kick start the phase oscillator, activating it right before "ice-world" was obliterated.

He'd been plunged into Hell, whether because the device hadn't been properly calibrated or because he was riding the periphery of a quantum fusion explosion, he could never tell nor was in any rush to find out. Either way, he'd been thrown into the between-realms of the multiverse. He was there for an eternity, more than enough time to go mad and return to sanity a thousand times. He was there for not even a second, barely enough time for him to notice the change. Both, and many more, as if experiencing every variation of being trapped between worlds all at once. And when it was over, he'd been spat out onto this Earth at the other end of all probability.

A world where super-powered beings were nonexistent, purely the stuff of myth and folklore. A history where the American Revolution had failed, and the British empire had grown into a worldwide totalitarian state. A universe where Earth that had gone unnoticed by even the most diligent of extraterrestrial powers, even its own neighbor, Mars. It had been difficult, but in time he'd acclimated to the change.

From then on he'd had no time for rest and relaxation. Finding a lowly wage-slave with no past, working in just the right place that a diamond in the rough could be noticed by the right royalty. Murdering him and assuming his life. Manipulating the professors so they would turn on each other once his work was discovered. Talking the prince into sponsoring his experiments. All that hard work and more, so that soon the only action that could make any difference would _finally_ be achieved.

_That, and a little bit of revenge_, he thought sardonically.

Calculating the quantum frequency to transfer from his home universe to another and back was tricky enough. Now that he was making it from an entirely different reality, it was doubly so. He'd been unable to relocate the world of the Justice League that had defeated him, but the one he had found was a close match. Close enough to give him a measure of satisfaction, and certainly close enough to pose a challenge to the Britannians. One strong enough to necessitate the frenzied war footing he required.

And why was he afforded this? For nothing he had done that he could tell. Some would have been poetic and called it the will of God, evidence that his intentions had some divine backing. He, of course, viewed it as just a coincidence. Dumb luck. Happenstance. Chaos theory at work.

_In short, further proof, as if any need be, that causality was a crapshoot, the universe arbitrary and illogical, and life inconsequential_, he thought spitefully. If anything, the total randomness of the event, occurring without any move by himself in any direction, made the multiverse even more chaotic than he'd previously imagined.

He once thought his time for moments of clarity had ended after his mother and his brother Bruce had died in a scum-ridden alley, gunned down by a thuggish cop with no inclination to serve and protect others. While his father threw away his life trying to cleanse the justice system of its apathy and corruption, he'd sought a much different path whereby he would rule crime, and punish all who sought to create some illusion of law and order.

It had been motivated by a perceived belief that anyone could affect the world, just that most chose not to, a statistic he no longer wished to be a part of. With the rise of the Crime Syndicate, he thought he'd done it, that he had made a difference and changed the world. He'd shown everyone that the only golden rule was that those with the gold made the rules. He couldn't imagine himself being anywhere else or doing anything else than where he was and what he was doing alongside the Syndicators.

Then it all came crashing down.

First, he found Luthor's files, like an ominous note in a horror movie right as someone walked into a room they shouldn't have. The reality of, well, reality had been maddening enough, but at first it was just there on an intellectual level. Then the Justice League had appeared, and he'd met his opposite number, the same outrage and injustice he'd once felt channeled into a war _against_ crime and corruption. In him he saw the entire struggle of his life and all of his accomplishments counterbalanced by the alternate options.

That had been the clincher that the only assurance in life was that it was impossible to make a difference. Anything he did, even his very existence, was matched by an equal but opposite effect on some other world, however distant. It was impossible to change the universe, to do something that could _not_ be countered somewhere else, even in destroying it. So the only thing to do that would make a change was to destroy all universes.

And to do that required the FENRIR, his so-called trans-dimensional barrier device. To lay the groundwork for that he needed to request a meeting with Prince Schneizel. A request that Earl Maldini was responding to, apologetically saying that he couldn't give any definite assurances about his master's schedule.

_I've been patient this far, I can wait a bit more_, he thought before speaking aloud. "You needn't apologize, My Lord. After all, you know what words I live by:

"It doesn't matter," said the Owlman.

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._


	10. Notes, Annotations, and Credit Sources

**Knights or Justice?**

**Notes and Annotations**

**by AstroCitizen**

* * *

Okay, you've just finished reading the eight and, at the moment, *only* chapters of "Knights or Justice", a crossover fan fiction between the anime drama CODE GEASS: LELOUCH OF THE REBELLION and the latest DC animated series YOUNG JUSTICE. I've a number of fanfics running around in my head, but this was the first time I completely wrote one down to any degree. Until now, it had all been patches of dialogue or an outline for a particular scene in one segment of a chapter half-evolved in my mind.

Such is a nice way of me saying that I'm an amateur writer. While I'm sure there's bits here and there that could have been fine-tuned, I don't think I was embarrassingly sloppy. Criticism is welcome, *if* constructive.

Anyway, that's what you've just read, if you were wondering what the hell all that was. Below, you'll find a little index section that should explain some of the more esoteric bits, especially for someone not so familiar with either series, or the source material.

-AstroCitizen

/ * KoJ? * /

KNIGHTS OR JUSTICE (a crossover fan fiction)

- The title itself is a reference to when Lelouch as Zero called upon Ohgi's group to become "knights for justice". Also, it's symbolic of the battle of ideologies that will occur between the Justice League and the knights of Earth-CG, whether they're BK's or KOR's.

- That is an actual World War II-era quote by Allied Supreme Commander Dwight D. Eisenhower. It applies easily towards the work by the Justice League, but one can imagine the Britannians co-opting it for their own actions, which they see as legitimate spreading of Social Darwinism.

/ * KoJ? * /

PROLOGUE - The Worth of a Word

- I always wanted the first scene to be in a book store, but I'm not aware of any bookstore chains a la Books-a-Million in the DC Universe, so I just invented Word's Worth for the prologue. It started off as LexText, a chain owned by Lex Luthor, but that would reveal the crossover right off the bat. That being said, the aprons as described are inspired by the costume Roddy McDowell wore as The Bookworm on the live-action BATMAN TV show.

- Tham is an OC - not based on myself - whose purpose is an everyman whose POV we start with, as well as to spotlight to the mystery customer here the differences between her world (Earth-CODE GEASS) and this one (Earth-16).

- The woman here, in case you haven't guessed, is Monika Kruszewski, the Knight of Twelve.

- Philadelphia was an early contender for the United States' capital, so I'm going with the idea that the Britannians assume that it is, making it a primary target area.

- Geno's and Pat's are a pair of Philly cheese steak outlets that have an infamous rivalry going on between them, like the innumerable Ray's Pizzas in New York but more intense. Personally, I prefer Firehouse Subs.

- "Giant Mars Warrior Jade" is a manga series inspired by the Martian Manhunter. When MM had his own series in the late Nineties, one story set in Japan had an MM-inspired magical-boy series, "The Jade Warrior". I changed the title to something a little more manga-sounding.

- Bernice is based on a character from Greg Evans' comic strip LUANN who's worked in a bookstore during one arc.

- Story elements from the first season of YOUNG JUSTICE are all referenced in the USA TODAY article. This particularly holds true for Belle Reve, which is precisely as described in both the cartoon and original source material.

- Re: the article on recovery in Japan - I'm not sure if USA TODAY had an actual front page story of this nature at this time, but for story purposes, let's just say on Earth-16 it did.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 1 - Court of Equity, part 1

- The Britannian Empire's entry on the CG Wiki site names Schneizel as Prime Minister rather than Chancellor. But PM also appears as the head of government for democracies like Japan and the E.U., so I'm going with Chancellor here. Also, "chancellor" was Adolf Hitler's technical title while dictator of Germany, so... yeah.

- Dr. Dorado has a counterpart, a scientist responsible for the Justice League's Zeta-Beam system. Specifically his name is Eduardo Dorado, *Sr.*, which may mean a teenaged version of El Dorado from the old SUPERFRIENDS cartoon may appear some day. Thus, I gave him the middle name Luis here ("E.L. Dorado").

- The origin I give Dorado is based upon Matt Damon's character in GOOD WILL HUNTING.

- Osterman, Lizardo, and Brown are all references to WATCHMEN, THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI, and BACK TO THE FUTURE, which all had scientists breaking the 4th dimension with varying results.

- Tarnhelm is the name of a magic helmet in Richard Wagner's GöTTERDäMMERUNG which allows one to travel long distances instantly. An appropriate name for a teleportation experiment.

Similarly, the "seven-league booth" is a reference to seven-league boots, an element in European folklore which allows the wearer to take great strides, seven leagues each step.

- It was never quite explained why Clovis was afraid he'd be disinherited if C.C.'s existence came to light. He didn't seem to know about Ragnarok or the Geass Cult. Because of this, I decided to give the Emperor a supposed quirk that, while he could care less about any personal drama or tragedy that may occur, he still wants his children to report anything unusual they find, hinting there would be consequences if they didn't in a timely fashion. Perhaps this is his way of keeping up on whether they find a Providence site, a Code-bearer, someone with Geass, or anything else World of C-related that could help or hinder Ragnarok.

-To differentiate things, I made Cornelia a marshal rather than a general, just as I made Schneizel a chancellor.

- As you can tell by Lelouch's presence, I'm not going by events of the TV series for this crossover. Rather I made an AU wherein he's a prince again and became Area 11's viceroy. It's a popular idea, and I admit my version is based upon several popular fanfics that utilize it - "Dauntless" by Allora Gale, "Lelouch of Britannia" by Cal Reflector, "Lelouch of the Revolution" by Lilyflower1987, etc. It's not my intention to plagiarize those storylines; this is all just a setup for the conflict that will rise out of the crossover rather than an unauthorized copy or continuation of these series and their particular storylines. Your mileage may vary, of course.

I used Lelouch-as-prince as that seemed to me more likely to put him on the front lines, whereas the canon Lelouch-as-Zero would make a spectator out of him or a sideline character a la NIGHTMARE OF NUNNALLY. Not that "Zero/Justice League" couldn't be a source of material, but the Justice League would view the Black Knights for much the same reasons as given later on regarding resistance movements with a level of political authenticity vs. outright terrorists, which would effectively marginalize them if not outright paint them as bad guys. Again, YMMV.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 2 - Coffee Clash

- Sir Bismarck's religious fervor is something I made up to give him a real motivation - other than "Charles is the emperor so I have to obey him" - for his allegiance to the Ragnarok program. Similar things occur with the back stories for Guinevere, Carine, Luciano, etc. being made up off the top of my head. (It's stuff like this where you can tell I'm forgetting this is supposed to be just a plot bunny that anyone can adapt and make their own. Sorry.)

- The allied nations of Europe have been given numerous names in CG and CG-related materials - European Union, Euro Universe, Euro Ultra-union, European Ultra-union. I decided on Euro Ultra-union as the Universe one sounded too ostentatious, and European Union would cause confusion with the IRL (and Earth-16) organization. Granted, "Euro Ultra-union" sounds like an organization in a Gundam series, but anyway...

- "Rascal", according to the CG wiki site, *is* the English translation for Burai. This version, the Drill Type Burai, appears in one of the CG video games, so I gave it a reason for existing here based on info in its CG wiki entry. Incidentally, I'm not sure if it was ever explained what the initials N.A.C. stood for, so I made up a title that seemed likely to have been invented by Britannia.

- Once during the series, the Galahad's sword not only by itself stopped a Hadron-energy blast but also reflected it at enemy KMF's, so I'm putting in that it has vague weird properties that, in a straight up fight against the Justice League, would give Waldstein some wiggle room to win. One of a few things I'm giving the series' more prolific Knightmares so a battle against super-heroes won't be a curb stomp. In fact, while the Percival is shown as having been turned into scrap metal, even without flight capability it was a Superman-vs.-Metallo level fight: short with a foreseen conclusion but intense.

- The heroes here are Wonder Woman, John Stewart, and Captain Atom.

- Sir Bismarck describes Stewart as "of African descent like himself". Not entirely sure if CG's production team meant to or not, but based on skin tones it seems that he, Dorothea Ernst, and a few others were supposed to be black, so I'm going with that here. I'm incorporating ideas from Juubi-K's "The Sum of Our Choices", whose version of Britannia apparently was a bit more liberal in its early days for absorbing non-whites and non-Anglos into their society before they had a system of conquering other nations and imposing ideas such as Number or Honorary Britannian on them.

- You'll notice a lack of incredulity to the appearance of Wonder Woman and her teammates, such as one would find in "super-heroes in the real world" movies like KICK-ASS or BLANKMAN. This is because I assume there to be no real cultural or fictional precedent for them on Earth-CG. As a result, while they do look eccentric (much as Lelouch did while dressed as Zero), nobody gives them crap about running around in their underwear. Granted, I think they should have retconned out Superman's briefs a long time ago, but I'm not going to have anyone comment on it here.

For various reasons - mostly the socio-political climate in America at the time when the likes of Superman were created - I imagine that the concept of the super-hero never evolved in Britannian society. Now, the comic book as a form of print media does exist, having started out as collections of reproduced comic strips just as IRL. However, the standard genres are romance stories, Wild West tales, crime drama, sci-fi, humor, horror, historical fiction, educational, medieval fantasy, myth/folklore, and (of course) porn. Super-heroes, however, are out; nobody would know what you were talking about if you asked.

This isn't to say there are not larger-than-life heroes and villains in fiction, nor that there are no super-normal beings either. It's just that they don't take on the style of the costumed adventurer or super-villain. Supernatural figures like Dr. Frankenstein and his monster might exist, as could Count Dracula and the Headless Horseman. Larger-than-life heroes and villains like the Phantom of the Opera, Sherlock Holmes, James Bond and Goldfinger, all could exist. Characters like the Hulk or the Invisible Woman don't exist, but equivalent super-normal beings from classic literature like Jekyll & Hyde or Griffin might. Incidentally, WAR OF THE WORLDS and ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU may exist, but are likely considered anti-Britannian for their subtext and are censured.

There are also socio-political issues at play, such as Britannia's racial and nationalistic prejudices, and lip service to eugenics. As a result, a hero born of good-breeding like Doc Savage could exist, but a student of obscure foreign arts like The Shadow would not. Foreign villains like Captain Nemo and Dr. Fu Manchu would be allowed, as well as Bulldog Drummond's rogues' gallery of not-so-thinly-veiled racist caricatures. On the other hand, the Green Hornet - feigning a criminal lifestyle to catch criminals that the police cannot - would intrinsically defy too many Britannian mores of their society and government's innate superiority to be permitted.

The lack of this segment of American pop culture reverberates throughout foreign fiction. For example, in Japan, kaiju exists but super-sentai/power ranger-type shows and most other tokusatsu don't exist (so GODZILLA could theoretically exist but the likes of GATCHAMAN wouldn't). Additionally, what mecha series exist are of the Real Robot variety, rather than Super Robots like Astro Boy, Gigantor, or Mazinger Z. Ironically, this would mean within the world of Earth-CG, the series CODE GEASS could exist, but devoid of Lelouch's masked identity and the Code/Geass aspects.

- I originally had Captain Atom tell Darlton to say hi to his brothers Dinky and Dastardly for him, a reference to Hanna-Barbera's outlaw gang the Dalton Brothers. Eventually, I decided this was more "Green Arrow" behavior, plus they wouldn't have necessarily encountered the Glaston Knights just yet. So Atom acts as one professional military man to another instead.

- Themyscira is the official name of Amazon or Paradise Island.

- Chim-Chim is the name of the pet chimp in the anime classic SPEED RACER.

- Operation Wild Hunt is named after a European folk story about a pack of spectral huntsman whose appearance foretells death or disaster. It's most likely it would become Britannia's codename for an attack using teleportation or dimension-hopping.

- I should mention that I don't envision every KMF vs. JL battle being a curb-stomp, as most Knightmares better than a Glasgow would require a team effort for some of the less-powered heroes. The Percival sent to Philadelphia was a 6th or borderline 7th generation Knightmare - as opposed to the flight-capable 8th gen. which the Guren tore apart - and furthermore had Superman and a couple other Leaguers dog pile on it. As the KMF's become more powerful, the balance of power levels out. And that's before you toss in someone given an advantage by Geass like Bismarck or live command-Suzaku.

- Naturally, Luciano Bradley is confined to Gotham City's Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane. The man with the moustache is of course Police Commissioner James Gordon of BATMAN fame. Originally, it was DC's resident intelligence agent, "King" Faraday, but later I decided it would be Gordon checking in on Arkham's new V.I.P. The other two are just ciphers: A stock psychiatrist on the asylum's staff and a representative from the D.O.D., as Luciano *is* a prisoner of war, albeit a crazy one.

- The soldiers taking custody of the Geass Cult are Knights, field agents of Checkmate, DC's belated answer to S.H.I.E.L.D. Ten points to one of my reviewers for recognizing them off the bat!

- Sir Bismarck is correct: The children with Geass powers are wearing super-power-cancelling inhibitor collars, a YJ feature.

- Did you notice that Wonder Woman nearly said "human religions" instead?

- The trans-dimensional travel FX is inspired by those in the DVD movie, JUSTICE LEAGUE: CRISIS ON TWO EARTHS.

- A map seen during CG didn't place a set of Thought Elevator ruins on location with Pendragon, but there were indicators there was something World of C-related beneath the castle, hence the Emperor's conversing with Clovis *after* his death and his surprise appearance in the Geass Directorate when the Black Knights attacked. I'm splitting the difference by declaring there is a "juncture" there, an archway that can take one to a fully-operational Thought Elevator site.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 3 - The Fraud Prince

- Lelouch's memories here are an indefinite rundown of his past in this world, again an amalgamation of Lelouch-as-prince fanfic timelines. As usual, his knight is Jeremiah Gottwald, while his supposed romantic misadventures are inspired by the works of Lilyflower1987 and Cal Reflector. The idea that Clovis simply walks in on one of his chess games is my idea... perfunctory, but it works.

- An early review I read of CG wondered if the FLEIJA weapon may turn out to be zapping stuff into another dimension, an idea I've utilized in some other CG story ideas. Here, Nina's nuclear theories have just been straight up used in a government project to develop teleportation. Or that's what everyone thinks they're for.

- During one of the audio dramas, Nina suggests "Schrödinger" when the Student Council was picking out names for Suzaku's cat, a reference to the overly-popular example of Erwin Schrödinger's thought experiment where a cat locked in a box with some poison is both dead *and* alive until someone checks and sees. It all falls into discussion of quantum superpositioning, including the decoherence factor, and the possibility of a multiverse. Hence, Nina and her contribution to Schneizel's project is the apparent reason a teleportation experiment accidentally becomes a trans-dimensional travel experiment.

- Lelouch's worries of a possible Chinese invasion at Kyushu refers to "Battle for Kyushu", while Calares was the functioning Viceroy of Area 11 at the very beginning of R2.

- Ms. Minnie is an OC inspired by Una O'Conner in her comedic role as Minnie the panicky housekeeper in THE BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN. I forget why I created her.

- I've never been quite clear as to what kind of eyewear shields against Geass or not. I've decided the all-white Spider-Man lenses of the Batman Family and others won't cut it, but Kid Flash's teched-up goggles will. Plastic Man's too, probably.

- In lieu of the Guren, Lelouch had developed a device using early theoretical papers by Rakshata Chawla as described. And yes, it's based on the microwave emitter from BATMAN BEGINS.

- The super-heroes mentioned are Captain Marvel and Icon, while Red Tornado demolishes the Camelot hanger.

- The idea of Lelouch falsifying reports of Nunnally's death is, of course, inspired by Allora Gale's "Dauntless"; I just moved her hidey-hole. I always wondered how O.S.I. was able to put up a secret HQ underneath Ashford Academy prior to CG R2, so I decided it was already there and was co-opted by them.

- The girl who kidnaps Nunnally is Zatanna. She used her magic backwards language to order Shirley and Sayoko to fall asleep, as well as casting a glamour over herself to impersonate Shirley.

- You'll notice Shirley says "Britannian" instead of "English" when referring to the language they speak. This is to differentiate themselves from the citizens of England, a monarch-less elected democracy that's part of the E.U.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 4 - The Princess and the Purpose:

- Had you going there for a moment, right? Anyway, Nunnally's "inquisitors" are Kid Flash and Artemis. They, along with the super-dog Wolf, are joined out on the beach by Aqualad, Robin, Zatanna, and Rocket, Icon's sidekick. Superboy and Miss Martian are mentioned but absent.

- The text switches to screenplay-style to represent the Team's meeting as interpreted by Nunnally. Their conversation refers to several YJ season 1 stories, including a teenaged psychopath (Harm) who murdered his sister (Greta) and secretly buried her body, infiltrating a circus as a family acrobatic team called the Daring Dangers, etc.

- Incidentally, I hope no one has a problem with my comparing Nunnally's bolthole to the Frank family's annex; it's reflective of the Team's unease with Lelouch's manner of safeguarding Nunnally.

- Rocket references a common phrase about Italiann dictator Benito Mussolini - "at least he made the trains run on time". This is coupled with the pre-Civil Rights bus conditions which mandated non-whites give up their seats and stand at the back of the bus.

- Another YJ story element: Artemis is the estranged daughter of the masked criminal Sportsmaster (who strikes me as the sarcastic clapping-type), who abandoned his wife the Huntress after she was crippled, and raised his daughters to be criminals, too.

- The J.S.A. that Zatanna mentions is the Justice Society of America, the Justice League's predecessor and the first team in comic book-dom. As a reflection of the SEDUCTION OF THE INNOCENT-sparked comic book crackdown of the 1950s, DC history made it so they were harassed and shut down by the Congressional House Un-American Activities Committee, which led to all super-heroes retiring until the Silver Age heroes started appearing. Some retcons and alternate history stories had the former Societors hunted by government agents afterwards. I was going to mention some fictional agencies that were supposed to exist during this time but dropped it.

- Audrey Hepburn was the actress who played Princess Ann in ROMAN HOLIDAY. I've been asked if mentioning her was a reference to WAIT UNTIL DARK where she plays a blind woman, but no; interesting idea though

BTW, I don't really imagine Rocket as regularly making quips that reference movies, but she hasn't gotten a lot of screen time or character development on YJ yet, and I had to give her something to say.

- The talk about programming is more YJ back story. Conner and Roy (Superboy and the Red Arrow) are both clones whose education and/or memory graft included subliminal messages to infiltrate the Justice League. At the end of season 1, Megan (Miss Martian) telepathically erased this conditioning, which the Team is comparing to Geass commands.

- Still giving the Britannians some advantages, so I'm having that Sakuradite affects Kryptonians to some degree... maybe just like poison ivy, maybe something akin to Red Kryptonite. The specifics and why this happens I left up in the air.

- Chemo (pron., "Kim-oh") is a living humanoid-shaped beaker full of toxic chemicals, one of the trippy but no less popular giant monsters from DC's Silver Age.

- Superboy's "Slapper-depression" is something I invented. During season 1, Lex Luthor developed "shields", skin patches shaped like Superman's emblem that gave Superboy the full range of Kryptonian powers, which SB eventually abandoned rather than be bribed with them. I'm inferring that he did develop an at least psychological dependence upon them and occasionally has bouts of withdrawal when his standard powers aren't up to snuff. Also, out of respect to Superman, they're now called "slappers", a name I borrowed from addictive steroid patches from BATMAN BEYOND.

- Static is a teenaged electromagnetic super-hero from the defunct Milestone Media comics group that Icon and Rocket originally came from. Daisy is the name of his would-be girlfriend throughout the series, so I'm assuming he dropped her name and, for Daring Danger-i.d. purposes, Rocket is picking it up.

(EDIT: After a long hiatus, YJ has returned to the air, and promos are showing that Static is being introduced in the near-future as a new character, rather as a preexisting, off-panel one. Oh well... I'll probably re-edit this later so Rocket goes by the name Delta, after American space program's rocket design system.)

- Robin is comparing Artemis' overuse of alliterative D-names to the similar plethora of B-names used by the Beagle Boys, the consummate arch-enemies of Scrooge McDuck.

- "Zoo-manity" (or rather "Zumanity") is the Cirque du Soleil's, shall we say, not-for-the-underage show.

While I'm on the topic, Kid Flash's reference to being called Minus instead of Dash had the names been M-alliterative is a reference to Menos (Spanish, "minus"), one-half of a Mexican super-speed team from the previous teenaged DC hero cartoon, TEEN TITANS.

- K.F. is snickering because he knows Robin also goes to Gotham Academy in his secret i.d., which Artemis doesn't know.

- "Sibling 'valry'" references Robin's tendency to invent neologisms by removing real or supposed prefixes from words. He did something similar when he turned "hostage" into "host" by cutting out "-age".

- I'm opening the opportunity for Nunnally to develop as a stronger character, which we only see haltingly throughout R2, and even then mostly as a pawn of Suzaku or Schneizel. I'm leaving it up in the air if she's beginning to regain her suppressed memory or if this image of her father is just her imagination. Granted, she was able to overthrow her father's Geass which made her blind, although it's been discussed ad nauseam over whether him being dead wasn't a big help. YMMV is what I say.

Additionally, her hormones are starting to percolate in my view of events as you can tell. On a related note, I kinda felt the YJ animators made Robin vaguely resemble Tenchi Muyo with the ears and such. With that, and given the current YJ season insinuates that Robin/Nightwing's followed his comic book source material as being something of a lady-killer, I'm setting things up so Lelouch has a rival in the "spontaneously attracting a harem" department.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 5 - Court of Equity, part 2:

(I know, I know... this chapter's overlong with a lot of exposition. If I ever decide to continue this, I'll cut this up into halves or move parts to other chapters, possibly.)

- Cornelia's left arm in a sling is a reference to the condition the same arm was in throughout most of CG R2.

- I imagine Lelouch's actions against the Middle Eastern Federation are not too different from the North African League in Cal Reflector's "Lelouch of Britannia". Cornelia's reaction, however, is more akin to her mindset in "Dauntless" by Allora Gale, where she feels both that Lelouch was disobedient if not mutinous, as well as disrespectful of her command.

- Notice that I don't specifically say Clovis was killed by Lelouch at Shinjuku as in canon. It may have occurred during Saitama, the fall of the Purebloods, the battle at Narita, somewhere. Leaving things open, not that it's necessarily relevant to the story.

- Prince William is an OC I invented for this scene, and like Clovis is a pretentious snob, albeit centered on theatre rather than art. His numeration as 15th prince is a reference to the Ides of March from JULIUS CAESAR.

- "Wave function collapse" is a term that appears in articles I've read on quantum superposition, the many-worlds interpretation. "Wave function shift" is a term I made-up from it as fancy terminology used by scientists to call it when people are sent to another universe.

- Perhaps I should mention that I don't visualize Guilford as being made a paraplegic. He just got himself beaten badly like Cornelia, and the neck brace and follow-up treatment was taken as a precaution.

- I was trying to think of something specific Cornelia had done as part of Operation: Wild Hunt, then saw where GOLDFINGER was going to be on TV. The rest wrote itself.

- The specifics of the downfall of the Purist Faction was also something I left undefined, both because it wasn't all that relevant, and also open for someone else to determine the timeline of events.

- I won't dither about the scientific ideas being brought up here - the chapter does this enough - and will try to concentrate on the story elements and real-world history involved.

- IRL, Einstein couldn't get a job teaching physics as he wanted and wound up a patent clerk. A good thing too, as it gave him time and privacy to think. The result was his so-called "wonder year" where he wrote a bunch of papers that catapulted him into scientific history and the public spotlight. On Earth-CG, however, he *did* get a job at a university, but unfortunately this had the effect of stalling his private work, so his papers came out sporadically over several years, and he remained fairly anonymous.

- Here you will find my version of the Lake Kawaguchi hotel incident, without Euphemia's presence. As a result, the soldier Nina had accidentally insulted got some payback in before Lelouch and Suzaku arrived.

- It was a solar eclipse in 1919 that helped prove one of Einstein's theories, which as described involved photographs being taken of stars beside the sun during a solar eclipse. On Earth-CG, for the above-stated reasons, this theory didn't come out until later, and so was tested using the solar eclipse that occurred in 1955, or 2010 on the Britannian calendar. The same year Lelouch and Nunnally lost their mother and were exiled was a red letter year for the Einstein family.

- My apologies if Lelouch seems a bit OOC taking Schneizel to task, but I feel having Nunnally kidnapped along with a ton of other matters that have been boiling under the surface, and Cornelia's little blame-game is enough to make him snap a little bit.

- I hope you enjoyed this sequence with Euphie. I wanted to show her as being made of sterner stuff and, while this is one of those things that makes this chapter over-long, I couldn't cut it out.

- Hugh Everett III was a real-life physicist who seriously considered the possibilities of alternate realities in the mid-1950s.

- Quantum signature, on the other hand, is just something I lifted from STAR TREK.

- The bits here about Benjamin Franklin, other than his alternative actions within CG's timeline, are true. The bit about he and his brother falling out are part of his Silence Dogood phase in life.

- Yes, this is a reference to the SAZ and, no, Lelouch did not accidentally give Euphie a time-delayed order.

- From here onwards for awhile we have another overlong section, where the United States, the other nations of the world, and current socio-political issues are analyzed from an outsider with only a smattering of the facts. Won't say there's not a dab of my own opinions on matters, though.

- Prince Oscar is not an OC, but he might as well be. He and Emil are mentioned in passing in an audio drama, so I'm dropping him in for I want someone to speak other than Guinevere and the rest.

As implied, Oscar is a boozer. I intended him to play a part in the conversation where it's addressed how over powerful and difficult to use Lloyd's prototypes are, where Lelouch would have compared trying to pilot one to memories of driving a drunk-simulation vehicle during Ashford Academy's alcohol awareness festival.

- Euphie gives us a READER'S DIGEST version on how Britannia views the history of the American Revolution. Nothing that hasn't been seen elsewhere, but thought it still relevant.

- More on how the existence of Britannia has changed history and historical figures. Most everything mentioned here about Grant and the rest is based on real-life events in their lives.

IRL, Jackson enforced the Indian Removal Act, with repercussions on Native Americans/First Nationals that continue to this day. I use him as an explanation for why CG shows Britannians who I'm guessing are not Caucasians, by having them integrate - better than was done so IRL, admittedly - other ethnicities into their society... for awhile anyway.

- The Five Civilized Nations were a real-life organization. The Hekawi, on the other hand, are the Indian tribe from F-TROOP.

- Another thing in CG anachronistic against its history is the presence of a Star of David worn by Ohgi when he first appears. As a result, I invented a pseudo-Nazi party that secretly overturns a segment of Europe in much the same way as in real life. Who Adolf von Braunau is should be obvious; I mutated his surname, using the town he was born in, Braunau-am-Inn.

I decided that the Aryan ubermensch belief also evolved within the world of CG, which IRL history reports as being more or less the same time as Social Darwinism. As a result, Jewish communities flee to Britannia, and so we have Albert Einstein - and thus Nina - existing on Earth-CG.

- Lelouch is referencing a quote - "how sharper than a serpent's tooth" - from KING LEAR, not RICHARD THE THIRD, but whatever.

- More on China and Schneizel's plans for it using Lelouch (rather than Odysseus).

- More cut scenes - I wanted to infer Schneizel was assembling a new team to give surveillance fresh eyes, its members including Gino and Anya, who aren't KOR's just yet. Lelouch's second team member, btw, isn't C.C. as Euphie suspects, but Sayoko in disguise, as this mission is partially a Nunnally rescue attempt in Lelouch's mind.

- Lelouch recognizes the sign of Geass on the ruins beneath Pendragon, he's just trying to gauge whether or not Schneizel knows that he has one from the Ragnarok files.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 6 - Watch and Learn:

- The fake PSA is based off Captain Atom's OOC appearance in BATMAN: THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD.

- "Showcase" is an OC sketch and variety show, Earth-16's version of SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE if you will, named after the DC anthology title that introduced the Silver Age Flash among others. Similarly, the titles THE BRAVE AND THE BOLD and FORBIDDEN TALES OF DARK MANSION appear as soap operas, the latter being a kind of DARK SHADOWS show in my head.

- Green Arrow reviews further events from the season 1 finale of YJ, explaining the situation with his sidekick Speedy and Red Arrow. As explained, the Light is a conspiracy of major super-villains - corrupt business moguls, dictators, and heads of secret societies - who are the lead villains of YJ.

- Because he's a kid who magically turns into an adult, Captain Marvel tends to be treated as BIG-with-superpowers by DC these days, a joke really. As such, in YJ his presence is somewhat derided by the other Leaguers, particularly Wonder Woman as shown. I'm a fan so I'm doing a little here to correct this: When he was originally published (by a rival comic company, btw), he was Superman-meets-Captain-America but more approachable (and without the "super-dickery" stories of the '60s).

- Green Arrow's nickname for Cap is derived from an episode of MYSTERY SCIENCE THEATER 3000, where a series of over-the-top macho names are hung on the movie's lead "actor". Given how Cap is artistically rendered on YJ, especially with that Rob Liefeld-style neck, a comparison was inevitable.

- Abby Cadabby is a Muppet fairy-in-training that's part of the modern SESAME STREET cast. I guess Herry Monster isn't considered kid-friendly these days.

- "You can't cheat an honest man" is part of a W.C. Fields quote (and the title of the movie in which it is said). The full line is "You can't cheat an honest man... never give a sucker an even break or smarten up a chump". They were the final words of Fields' grandfather ("just before they sprung the trap").

- "Majel" is a reference to Majel Roddenberry, the voice of the computer on STAR TREK.

- I just give a barebones description of how the JL members look, mostly from the basic intention standpoint. I don't want to go into overkill as to the minutia of their costumes anymore than describing in detail the clothes of the CG characters or the color schemes of their KMF's.

- In YJ, the Watchtower is as described here. Personally, I prefer the Watchtower as either a moon base or a futuristic satellite.

- Mount Justice, incidentally, is the original "not-Batcave" used by the Justice League during the Silver Age. Eventually, it was abandoned for their first satellite headquarters when the Joker found out about the place. The town of Happy Harbor is also based on those early J.L.A. locales.

- I structured the Britannian attacks as simply an experimental raid with a short time table thanks to the Tarnhelms' ability to zap them in and out quickly. This also gives the excuse as to why super-heroes weren't able to respond better.

- The British science symposium is a vague reference to DOCTOR WHO, the Prof. Quatermass serials, and other scifi/adventure fiction in Great Britain that's oft in the foreground over costumed super-heroes. This part was originally longer, making them an official OC group, but decided not to, as they were a vehicle to introduce an early version of the Gefjun Disturber anyway.

- The Justice League refers to the Earth of CODE GEASS as Earth-B, which stands for "Britannia". The Britannians, however, call the Justice League's world Earth-2 as they haughtily think of their world as the "real" Earth while the Americans' world is just a copy.

- The Justice League just doing reconnaissance at first was inspired by Kurt Busiek's J.L.A./AVENGERS miniseries from a few years ago, where the J.L.A. invisibly gives the Avengers' world a looky-loo, and are not impressed by what they see.

- The bit about Batman's voice is just my little opinion over the most recent live-action movies.

- The number 16 pops up a lot of YJ for some reason, so that's the amount of damage the Justice League has done to the military-industrial complex of Britannia.

- Hawkman and the Atom shared a title for awhile, so at some point they were retroactively made buddies a la the Silver Age Flash and Green Lantern. I'm making it so they at least teamed-up sometime in YJ's past.

- My apologies if I offend anyone with Wonder Woman's talk about the differences if any between freedom fighters, resistance movements, terrorists, etc. I don't make any conclusions here, I'm just acknowledging the argument, as well as the "gray vs. black" morality of the situation as did CG to a degree. The Justice League, who are nominally the only real white hats in this scenario, are having to recognize the realpolitik nature themselves. Incidentally, I may be simplifying the origins and nature of anti-occupation groups during World War II.

- As indicated, the YJ timeline makes it so Wonder Woman did first appear during the J.S.A.'s days, so she could have fought in Europe during WW2.

- Kinda sorta making up what's the deal with the Blood of the Samurai from what little is canon and what I've seen in fanfics, along with some stuff I've gleaned read about Japanese militant political groups in fiction and IRL.

- Again, regurgitating commentary I've heard elsewhere. While not getting all "prime directive" and scared they'll muck up somebody's culture (however screwed up it is), the Justice League intend to respect the status quo of Earth-B aside from Britannia, assuming matters with Europe or the High Eunuchs don't get out of hand. It's another reason for conflict with Lelouch, who stated his intent to create a new world order following the SAZ massacre.

- The Injustice League is the traditional name for any team of DC super-villains that opposes the Justice League; within YJ, they were specifically a group of patsies for the Light.

- I blast Ohgi's group here but, seen from the outside, this is how the massacre in Shinjuku happened. While they're not directly responsible for the murders committed by Clovis' troops, they did knowingly stumblebum into a civilian populace they had to have known the Empire wouldn't - and didn't - consider worth squat. Also, there never was any clear indication of what they planned to do with what they thought was poison gas. As I said, it's one of the reasons the JL would look upon the Black Knights dubiously.

- The Flash is paraphrasing one of Sean Connery's lines from THE UNTOUCHABLES.

- Apparently, the Japanese are a lot more skittish about mentioning their imperial family in their fiction than, say, the British are, with only a fleeting mention of the emperor once in a month of blue moons that I know of. There's no mention as to what happened to them in CG canon, so I'm just guessing that's part of the Kyoto Houses' influence.

- Batman's mention of how easy it was to figure out who the heads of Kyoto are is a commentary on how obvious it is who he himself really is if you think about; not as obvious as Superman wearing glasses, but still, he's lucky all his bad guys are crazy.

(Re: "Res ipsa loquitur" - I'll admit I'm not too confident about this. I tried to look up Latin phrases which essentially meant the truth is inherent or obvious from what's been stated, and that's the best I could find.)

- Again, my variation of how and what the E.U. and the Chinese Federation are based on their wiki entries and my own observations. Also included is reference to plot elements of the new AKITO spin-off of CG.

- The mention of Cambodia and Korea is based on the listing of Areas in the CG wiki site, which calls them areas but adds that it's a disputed claim, so I made them partially occupied regions here.

- "Heller-esque" is a reference to Joseph Heller, the author of CATCH-22. Speaking of literary references, I meant for Green Arrow to use the names of the superpowers from George Orwell's NINETEEN EIGHTY-FOUR as nicknames for Earth-B, but I never found a place I was confident sticking it in.

- Is the reference to the Tianzi possibly having a missing cousin, who would presumably be a semi-albino too, a reference to Mao? You decide!

- Prypiat is the Ukrainian city that was abandoned after the Chernobyl disaster. It's a good example of what a modern city would come to look like if it became a ghost town. Wonder Woman's comparing the ghettoes the Japanese must live in to Prypiat if it were reopened to the public after so long in disuse. I mean to include that this is a condition shared by Numbers in all recently-added Areas, while in the older Areas they congregate in shantytowns like Brazilian favelas or the Hoovervilles of the Great Depression.

- Rather than human speech, I describe Dr. Fate as "burbling" when he talks, a reference to "The Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll.

- As we get into how the Emperor wound up a prisoner of the Justice League, I use the word "noosphere," an actual term for theoretical nonphysical strata of the world - not unlike the Dreamtime if you will - in addition to the geosphere, atmosphere, and biosphere.

- Moria is the dwarf-city, overrun by goblins and orcs, from THE LORD OF THE RINGS. The proper name is Khazad-Dum or something like that, but the movie popularized Moria, plus there's the alliteration factor.

- Now Plastic Man *is* a comedic take on super-heroes, and I hope you love the idea of him being pivotal to taking down a "Mr. Intimidating" anime-style Big Bad like Emperor Charles as much as I did writing it :)

- Unlike Marvel Comics, DC has formalized the vague genetic factor that allows for people getting super-powers as the Meta-gene, but it hasn't been introduced into YJ continuity at this point. Incidentally, I use this difference in human biology between their worlds to explain why people in anime - in the case of CG anyway - have green, orange, silver, gold, blue, magenta, etc. as options for eye and hair color.

- "Geis" is an actual thing in Irish and Scottish lore, a spell or a taboo depending on the circumstances, which supposedly Geass is named for.

- Revealed in season 2, a small group of J.L.A.'ers while under the Light's mental control attacked an alien planet, for reasons so far unexplained. I'm not suggesting anyone's in danger of remembering it here, but those who took part it in are feeling a slight "someone stepped on my grave" feeling at Cap's hypothetical scenario.

- S.T.A.R. Labs is another old mainstay of the DCU, starting as a supporting cast-locale in '70s Superman stories.

- Yes, the amnesiac kid is Rai from the CG: LOST COLORS video game. I've fiddled with his name, using an old DETECTIVE COMICS back-up feature - "Roy Raymond, TV Detective" - as its basis.

- Within YJ, all super-villains not crazy enough for Arkham Asylum are dumped in Belle Reve as described. The Brain Trust is an OC establishment, something I invented so Charles and V.V. aren't just rotting in jail off-screen and also to give them a potential power base on Earth-16.

- The metals used in the construction of the Brain Trust are lifted from the description of the apartment building from GHOSTBUSTERS. Another movie I stole from is the X-MEN franchise, as the dome-like structure of the building is inspired by the movie version of Cerebro.

- Brainwave, Jr. and Looker are DC characters whose histories, with minor adjustments, and attitudes are the same as here.

- The Hall of Justice was the headquarters of the Justice League in the various SUPERFRIENDS cartoon series. It exists in YJ, where the public thinks it's the League's headquarters, but it's really just a museum and their de facto embassy.

- Superman cannot see through lead with his X-ray vision. At some point after this power was formalized, however, it got misinterpreted as lead serving as a cloaking device to him, resulting in innumerable stories where lead-lining was used to hide bad guys, bombs, etc. In the late '80s, writer John Byrne pointed out the incongruity, as lead being impenetrable to X-ray vision should instead make it stand out to Superman easily. Not sure if anyone else has really handled it that way since then.

(Incidentally, I used quote marks as another thing Byrne did was make it so X-ray vision was more of a nickname, rather than Superman actually irradiating everyone around him with X-rays. Perhaps M.R.I.-vision is more accurate?)

- Superman wondering about how Lelouch got it covered that he had a sister while he was in Ashford... this was an element of "Dauntless" that was explained at some point, but I still feel it's a plot hole. It's not a factor from here on out, so I'm sort of hand waving it here by comparing it to Superman disguising himself by wearing glasses.

- Ironically, the suggestion it's all a coincidence is closer to the truth. While C.C. was a supporter of Ragnarok, she still wanted someone to take away her Code so she could die, however. She chose Lelouch to be that someone, his fight with his father immaterial to her, and only changed her opinion about Ragnarok during R2 as I remember it. To top it off, there was no way she could have caused the truck she was in to crash in front of Lelouch, or for him to come on board.

- And we have the requisite comparison of Batman and Zero here by the Caped Crusader himself.

- Early Wonder Woman mythos had the Amazonian purple-ray, a medical deus ex machina that could even restore life. The WHO'S WHO entry for Paradise Island, while explaining that men cannot stand upon the island, mentions that Hawkman was allowed to fly over it one time but gave no more explanation for his presence there. I used it as the basis for a vague back story where he was badly injured as a vehicle to mention the purple-ray.

WW and Hawkwoman's snarky conversation, btw, is inspired by their working relationship, such as it was in, in the JUSTICE LEAGUE animated series. I thought of including that it's caused here too by the Hawks having formerly been spies for their planet, but decided to drop it. Not entirely sure which origin for them YJ is going with yet anyway - alien police or reincarnated Egyptians.

- Perdita is an established character in the current DC animated universe, whose escapades have been shown on YJ. The Kingdom of Vlatava appeared in DC Comics previously as a Soviet bloc nation formerly ruled by G.A. baddie, Count Vertigo. Inter-gang is also a stock DCU organization, a creation of another king - Jack Kirby - and is basically what it's described as here.

BTW, to me Perdita looks like a Western animation version of the E.U. representative who's with Nunnally, Tianzi, and Kaguya in a screenshot of Earth-CG following the Zero Requiem. I intended to mention her here with the League wondering if they're counterparts to one another. Sadly, there's as of yet nothing known about the E.U. girl in CG or its spin-offs, so I reluctantly abandoned the idea.

- The Justice League was originally Justice League *of America*, but was eventually dropped as sounding semi-jingoistic. They became Justice League, International for a long time, then just the J.L.A. They use their original full name in the comics again, but YJ simply uses Justice League.

- Eiling and lane are U.S. military officials within the DCU that would likely prefer a more aggressive policy against Britannia. General Wade Eiling is a corrupt Air Force official who's involved in Captain Atom's origins. Major (sometimes Colonel or even General) Sam Lane is Lois Lane's father, your typical jerkass who wanted a son, and happened to be part of a Hulkbuster-esque series of black ops to create (and test) an anti-Superman strategy.

- Named are a couple of international super-heroes from England, Denmark, Israel, and Japan respectively in the DCU. They were introduced when SUPERFRIENDS had a comic book series, and later consolidated as The Global Guardians, Europe's answer to the J.L.A. The exception is the Legionary of Italy, from the famous "Club of Heroes" Batman story from the Fifties.

Incidentally, the Danish heroine's name is the Little Mermaid actually, but I figured YJ's producers would modify it to avoid a lawsuit from Disney... the fact that she's named after a public domain fairy tale older than W.D. itself be damned.

- Batman's memories are a READER'S DIGEST version of the Justice League's origins, where aliens downloaded their minds into monstrous elemental bodies to fight over who deserved to rule their world. I'm also injecting the *real* reason that Batman joined the Justice League as invented by modern day writers still following Frank Miller's model of the Dark Knight.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 7 - Kings in the Corner:

- I hope you got a chuckle from Charles' internal monologue regarding his obsession with the truth while calling other people hypocrites for their use of masks and lies.

- Hank Pemberton's necktie has the same pattern as the chest logo on his Brainwave, Jr. costume.

- The sequence of illusions is inspired by the "Night on Bald Mountain" segment of FANTASIA.

- As shown, Hank and Lia are the original Brain Wave, living within his son's body, and Phobia, a fear-inducing illusion-caster. They are implicitly working for the Light.

/ * KoJ? * /

CHAPTER 8 - Requiem for a Zero:

- The Prion is the evil parallel universe-version of the Atom, named after a form of infectious microorganism. He's a borderline OC as I looked up names for established evil-Atom characters, and the best I could find was Dyna-Mite, which just sounded goofy.

- If you've seen JUSTICE LEAGUE: CRISIS ON TWO EARTHS, then you probably guessed even before I said so, Earth-CG's Dorado is actually Owlman, Batman's nihilistic counterpart, who narrowly escaped his apparent death at the end of that movie as described here. He is now Charles-ishly provoking a war for a distraction as much as anything as he tries to recreate his doomsday device and use it on the central planet of the multiverse, Earth-Prime.

- Nidhögg is the dragon in Norse mythology that gnaws on the tap root of Yggdrasil, the giant tree that supports Midgard (Earth). A fitting name for Owlman's continued plan to eliminate Earth-Prime, don't you think? Another Norse myth element brought in is FENRIR rather than FLEIJA, named for the Fenris Wolf who is prophesized to one day kill Odin, the king of the gods, and in some versions eat the sun.

- She-Bat is a name and profile that popped up during CRISIS ON TWO EARTHS when a list of the Crime Syndicate's "made men" appeared, apparently an evil(er) version of Catwoman.

- The Phase Oscillator was the name of the dimension-jumping device used by the Owlman in a two-part episode of BATMAN: THE BRAVE & THE BOLD. A similar device from CRISIS ON TWO EARTHS was never given a name, so I'm using the same name Owlman's Saturday-morning cartoon counterpart used.

- Owlman's origin and (initial) motivation is based on writer Grant Morrison's version of the character from a J.L.A. graphic novel. Granted, this origin makes him more "Bruce Wayne's evil brother" rather than a bearded Spock version of Batman himself, but that's how it was written.

I did this as one of the rules of CRISIS ON TWO EARTHS seemed to be that the Crime Syndicate consisted of people who fit the roles of the Justice League members, rather than directly their evil twins, although the good guy versions of Luthor and Deathstroke seem to counter that idea. Still, that was the general rule apparently as, for example, Superman's counterpart Ultraman was a mafioso type rather than a citified country mouse (in fact, his visual design may have been patterned after Ray Liotta and Paul Sorvino from GOODFELLAS).

Additionally, Johnny Quick was British and, based upon his flesh tones, Power Ring may have been of Middle Eastern descent. Superwoman, it's been argued, was an evil version of another DCU heroine, Mary Marvel, while Wonder Woman's twin was one of the made men, a Greco-Roman dressed girl with an extendable spear.

- As you can tell by his dialogue from earlier, I'm leaving it open for Owlman to be the "Zero" of this series, albeit an outright villain rather than an anti-hero or well-intentioned Magnificent Bastard. In fact, the animated Owlman had a cowl somewhat like Lelouch's helmet, and had as a chest emblem a somewhat "0"-looking capital "O".

* * *

_Disclaimer: _Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion_ is the property of Sunrise and Bandai Entertainment. _Young Justice_ is the property of DC Comics, Inc. and AOL-Time-Warner._

_In point of fact..._

_Credits and Sources:_

_Code Geass; Lelouch of the Rebellion_, all related names, characters, and images are © Sunrise, Inc. All rights reserved.  
- Directed by Gorō Taniguchi  
- Written by Ichirō Ōkouchi  
- Character designs by CLAMP

_Young Justice_, all related names, characters, and images are © DC Comics, Inc. All rights reserved.  
- Young Justice by Todd DeZago and Todd Nauck; adapted for television by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti  
- Justice League by Gardner Fox  
- Superman by Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster  
- Batman by Bob Kane and Bill Finger  
- Wonder Woman by William Moulton Marston  
- The Flash by Robert Kanigher, John Broome, and Carmine Infantino  
- Green Lantern (Hal Jordan) by John Broome and Gil Kane  
- Aquaman by Paul Norris and Mort Weisinger  
- Martian Manhunter by Joseph Samachson and Joe Certa  
- Green Arrow by Mort Weisinger and George Papp  
- Hawkman and Hawkwoman by Gardner Fox, Dennis Neville, and Joe Kubert  
- Zatara by Fred Guardineer  
- Captain Atom by Joe Gill and Steve Ditko; Cary Bates and Pat Broderick  
- Black Canary by Robert Kanigher and Carmine Infantino  
- Green Lantern (John Stewart) by Dennis O'Neil and Neal Adams  
- Captain Marvel / Shazam! by C.C. Beck and Bill Parker  
- Red Tornado by Gardner Fox and Dick Dillin  
- Doctor Fate by Gardner Fox and Howard Sherman  
- The Atom by Gardner Fox and Gil Kane  
- Plastic Man by Jack Cole  
- Icon and Rocket by Dwayne McDuffie and M.D. Bright  
- Speedy / Red Arrow by Mort Weisinger and Paul Norris  
- Robin by Bob Kane, Bill Finger, and Jerry Robinson  
- Aqualad by Geoff Johns, Ivan Reis, Greg Weisman, Brandon Vietti, and Phil Bourassa  
- Kid Flash by John Broome and Carmine Infantino  
- Superboy by Karl Kesel and Tom Grummett; Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti  
- Miss Martian by Geoff Johns and Tony Daniel  
- Artemis by Roy Thomas and Todd McFarlane; Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti  
- Zatanna by Gardner Fox and Murphy Anderson  
- Wolf by Greg Weisman and Brandon Vietti (inspired by Rex the Wonder Dog by Robert Kanigher and Alex Toth)  
- The Brain Wave by Gardner Fox and Joe Gallagher  
- Brainwave, Jr. by Roy Thomas and Jerry Ordway  
- Looker by Mike W. Barr and Jim Aparo  
- Phobia by Marv Wolfman and George Pérez  
- Owlman by Gardner Fox and Mike Sekowsky  
- Crime Syndicate of Amerika by Gardner Fox and Mike Sekowsky


End file.
